Let the Pain Begin!

February 16, 2011

            I’m in the preliminaries at ten p.m., just 28 hours since my last Celebrex.  The start-up is the stabbing in my lower back and the sharp shooting jabs behind my right knee.  I’m quite sure I’ll qualify for the marathon.

February 17, 2011

            At nine a.m., I am emotionally refreshed after reading a lovely email from my daughter and composing a response. 

            What I imagine as an inflammatory response is growing.  The backs of my hands hurt, the knuckles feel swollen.  The little twinges that break through on occasion despite the Celebrex now have a sharper edge.  Let’s just say that from head to toe I feel a leaden aching core, dense yet diffuse. 

            Music is a temporary natural pain reliever.  It’s 10:45 a.m. and I just spent an hour practicing the wonderful music for flute choir and flute recital.  Naturally, everything hurts now again, but that’s just how it’s gonna be for a few days.

            Writing about music is another temporary natural pain reliever.  It is now 3:10 p.m. and I am no worse off than on most days.  (And, no, it did not take me four hours to write the previous paragraph.  I was composing poetry about music instead.)

            The worst pain I ever experienced was not in childbirth but from a dislocated right shoulder.  Labor, at least, has its own rhythm:  waves of intensity followed by lulls of silence.  Dislocation, though, is strident and uninterrupted.  I screamed my way through the emergency room and X-rays and the “relocation” of my shoulder. 

            Bedtime now, and my neck is my major complaint.  It’s a good thing I am still allowed my muscle relaxant.

I ate lots of fresh blueberries today in preparation for a three-day low fiber diet.  (Oh, yes.  I forgot to mention that the whole reason behind my five-day fast from Celebrex is the colonoscopy scheduled for Monday.  I’m going to miss my fruits and vegetables and whole grains for the next two days.  I’m still not sure why the doctor wants to plug me up before the Golytely cleans me out.)  Yes, I know, I know.  Too much information. 

February 18, 2011

            There’s nothing like having your email account hacked into to distract you from aches and pains . . . and to use up lots of time to set things right.

            The very pleasant thing is that I have not yet felt the awful “flu” feeling that I’ve always had before when stopping Celebrex.  It would be very nice if I could simply do without that expensive NSAID on a permanent basis.

            Naturally, I spoke too soon.  The flu/fatigue feeling came on quite suddenly as I waited for my prescription this afternoon.   However, by the time Mom and I got home, it had passed.  Now, at ten p.m., the pain in my neck, shoulders, hands, and fingers (and legs) is back.  I took a Tylenol 3 a little while ago—second one today.  The first was at 5 a.m. when I awoke with a splitting headache.

            But I have done better so far than anticipated. Off again, on again pain is much better than constant pain.  And I have my mattress warmer atop my memory foam bed to help me through the night.  It is rather like having a full-body heating pad set on low.  I have never regretted spending that ridiculous amount of money on this heavenly bed.

"Moderato" for Alto Flute

Nelhybel composed life in seventeen measures:

unhurried approach, increasing volume

                                                           to the summit—

vibrant speeding, rising, falling, slowing,

resolving in quiet reflection,

soul set free.

How I Spend the Day When Mom's Away

            I spent most of the day on spiritual gifts.  The rest of the day I spent practicing my flutes, pouring post-dated bottled drinks down the drain (sports drinks and Ensure), doing miscellaneous chores, and taking a half hour nap.

            How do you spend a day on spiritual gifts?  I hate to say this, but there wasn’t really anything supernatural about it.

            The requirement for such a pursuit was quite simple:  uninterrupted time.  Mom and John have been gone all day:  he took her to her eye specialist in Seattle, and then they went on up to Burlington to buy the month’s supply of cat food from Northwest Coop and a cartload of stuff from Costco. 

            I honestly thought that working on part two of the gifts assignment would only take an hour or two, but time got away with me.  First, I read through the Life Keys Leaders’ Guide, checking the corresponding book (Discover Who You Are) and making computer notes.  Then, after my nap, I came back to the computer and brainstormed at the keyboard.  Then, I read and edited all my previous notes and current notes about spiritual gifts and composed an email.

            The teacher in me took over.  Though the material was much different than my English composition teaching days (and, I could argue, ultimately far more important than reviewing essay models or preparing punctuation power points), the intensity of focus was familiar.  I love preparing just as much as I love teaching, especially when the materials concern eternal Truth.

           

Valentine's Day

            I think she used an almost-dried-up Sharpie to write on the Post-It Note, carefully folded in half and sitting on the kitchen table at my place.

            On the outside was one word:  “JOHN.”  On the inside were wobbly little hearts and “Mom.”

            Now that I think about it, I can imagine the scene:  Mom peering at the large atomic clock that sits on our kitchen counter, checking the date.  Valentine’s Day!  With a burst of sentimentality, she creates the little card.

            What is harder to describe is the emotional pain that assaulted me when I read her little note, which reminded me of the notes or cards small children spontaneously make and proudly present to their parents.  Mom is not an emotional person, but she is sentimental when it comes to John and her cat Orie  (short for “Oratorio”).  Her Valentine to John forcefully reminded me that she is slipping back in time as her abilities fade.  I wonder how long it will be until she calls John “Daddy.” 

Time

            Last night, commenting on an article in the February 7, 2011, issue of Time Magazine, Mom said, “Ronald Reagan must have died recently.”

            “He’s been dead a long time.  I think his son recently wrote a book about him.”

            “No,” she countered me, “It’s his daughter.”

            “Oh,” I said, quite sure I was right and she was wrong.

And then she asked me a question:

            “Did you know that near the end of his life, Ronald Reagan didn’t remember he had been President?”  With a sad look on her face, she continued:  “It just goes to show you what Alzheimer’s can do to a person.”

            I had no reply for that.

One of Those Days

            A moment of silence . . . I will take some deep breaths and calm down.

            It’s been one of those days.  Yes, there have probably been some ten-minute uninterrupted stretches, but not enough.  Mom is having a slow day, which means she has been inside all day, which means that the same questions have been circulating in one or two minute intervals:

            Where is John?

            What’s that noise?

            Do I need to take the trash out today?

            Am I having a slow day?  What is it, two in a row now?

            Yes, I am frazzled.  No, I can’t really escape for a couple hours until tomorrow when John is home.  I just keep answering her questions as patiently as possible:

            John is at work.

            The bread machine is making the noise.

            No, not today.

            Yes.

            But now, I’m wondering:  would telling tall tales help me keep my cool?

            He’s hanging out with Bill Gates.

            The spaceship has landed.

            The space aliens will take care of the trash.

            You’ve run circles around me today.

So, a moment of silence . . . I will take some deep breaths and calm down.  It’s been one of those days . . .