Aches & Pains II |
Monday Apr 16 2007
By Marilyn Hay
This is the second post in a two-part series.
Changes and adaptations to my arthritis didn't end with learning to manage pain or finding new and fulfilling things to do at home. I could no longer manage the spiral staircase where I was living—I came close to falling enough times that it scared me. And the long, brutally cold winters in Winnipeg brought even more constant, relentless pain. I couldn’t bend well enough to get boots on, so was often confined indoors, unable to negotiate the snow. The idea of house-hunting was exhausting and I really didn’t know where to begin looking. I just knew I needed somewhere that wouldn’t get as cold in the winter and, hopefully, wouldn’t have as much snow.
Luckily, just as I decided I needed to move, friends discovered a new adult housing development being built in British Columbia, so I didn’t need to do any house-hunting. I bought a unit online and I’ve lived here for over two years now. I live in a bungalow now, so no stairs to worry about. In spite of the fact that the prolonged winter rains and damp aggravate my joints, I love it. At least I can get out to do my shopping in the winter. And the gorgeous mountain views continue to awe me and bring me joy.
And as for travel? Well, I tried a short trip back to Winnipeg and returned home after six days: I was in such pain and my shoulders were so constrained that I feared being able to sustain my independent lifestyle. My physio and massage therapists counseled me that I had tried to do too much in too short a time. I had to learn to build in rest time in my travels, and to plan longer trips to see everyone I want to be with.
I’ve had to change the sorts of holidays I take. I can’t amble around much, so driving holidays or cruises win out over bus tours and trips that require ambulatory sightseeing. And I’ve found I need a ton of patience for air travel. One can wait hours until someone has time to push a wheelchair so you can get your luggage. Traveling alone by air or cruise ship is getting increasingly difficult, but my friends are terrific about including me on their holidays and generously provide the help I need.
I’ve had to buy a walker and a little scooter, and accept I just can’t get around without aids like this. But people, generally, are willing to help open doors. Be wary, though, of situations in which people lapse into a kind of mob madness, like in port terminals where everyone’s pushing and shoving to find their luggage. It’s essential to arrange for help in such situations, as I learned the hard way. There is no sign of human kindness or patience in a mob.
For the first time, I have gotten to know my neighbours and enjoy spending time with them. And they’ve been so kind and helpful. One couple has taken over my garden, making it beautiful. Others check on me, so if I can’t get out for several days, they make sure I have whatever I need in terms of groceries. And I’ve made truly wonderful new friends both here and around the world through the internet.
Finally, after more than three years of feeling my way, learning to manage pain as best I can, and accepting that sleeping pills are a necessary evil, I’m exploring the possibility of doing more to share my knowledge and experience with others. I’ve set up a consulting business and coach people over the phone or by email. Fortunately, I can still live on my own.
The point of all this? Don’t give up. Life doesn’t have to be a misery just because you have to change your lifestyle drastically, or even because you experience pain a good part of the time.
- Try different things to see what works for you to help you stay active.
- Don’t give up your interests—just figure out how you can still pursue them.
- Take the opportunity to explore other interests you didn’t have time for before.
- Choose to be happy.
- Remember to be grateful for all you still have.
Life is still a wondrous, joyful adventure—even with aches and pains.
Written by eldering at Health
Join discussion COMMENTS [0]
RSS Feeds
