Tag Archives: pain

Hipster

While doing arm stretches on a foam roller I slid off the roller entirely and slammed my right hip into the linoleum floor…It’s been 13 hours since then, and I’m just now noticing a dull ache.

Hopefully that’s a good sign, that I went so long without noticing the pain…Hopefully.

I feel old. So old.

There’s a benefit to having old person bones and illnesses though, right?

Chronic illnesses are totally like, cool…Hipster with the broken hip at 25, right?

I don’t want any more broken bones.

Gaaaah. If this holds up then I’m definitely going to be a community college professor in the U.S. for the rest of my life and never go to Spain…Unable to leave the country because nobody wants to give health insurance and travel visas to a chick who breaks bones so frequently.

I’m sure I’m fine.

It’s not broken.

Of course I didn’t think my hip, toes, or neck were broken last several times I broke things either.

The bones have a sneaky way of being in pain and making you think that it’s just arthritis. It’s probably just sore from the slight fall and then walking around all day. Totally.

TOTALLY.

I have way too much to do to break another hip. No puedo hacer esto.

Alright, if it’s not better in 24 hours I’ll contact doctors.

Ibuprofen in the mean time.

Peace out.

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I’m sorry

Dear Ex, I’m sorry.

I went to the last place we were together today, I had to for a school related thing, and I walked past the places that we walked past, and through the doors you walked through after you kissed me on the cheek for the last time. I missed you, and I’m sorry.

I wanted to be with you, I still want to be with you, and it is because you’re smart and you’re funny, and you tend to get my jokes. It’s because you’re sweet and you’re sensitive and you want to give the world to the people you love. It’s because you care, and you care deeply. It’s because you want to love.

I know that you are trying, or at least that you want to try, please know that I’m trying to…But at some point I realized that no matter how much we tried, you were still looking for someone to make you accept yourself, and I was accepting you beyond what was right, in order to not be alone.

It would have been more loving to tell you sooner that you needed to find yourself before trying to be with someone. It would have been more loving to let you have the personal space to realize your own worth, before becoming mixed up in your calculations of what it meant to be loveable. It would have been more loving to let you be my brother in Christ, rather than being the woman in your life…to let you know unconditional love, than to make you think that you were only loved on romantic conditions.

I’m sorry, because now the romance has crumbled and the friendship that could have been is shattered.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t make you love yourself…I’m sorry I couldn’t make you realize that you are enough just in who you are, that you don’t have to be enough for me, just for God…and I’m hoping, praying, that as you go on in life, you realize that you are loved, and loved more fully and better by someone who loves you more than I ever could or will.

I’m sorry, I love you, and I wish you the best.

I hope that I can grow too, that I can become stronger and heal from the pain, that I can build strong friendships and worry less about romance, that I will be able to look back on our memories and relationship and not dwell on the pain, and not dwell on my longing, but rather after some time to be able to look back and see how much we’ve grown…To see how much stronger, how much better, how much holier we are. To see how we’ve changed and grown closer to God, how we’ve used our gifts to build up and love the people around us. To see us happy and content even if completely apart. And to see you either become a priest or be happily married to a beautiful woman of God. Either one of those would be great.

Anyway, that’s what I’m hoping for, and in the meantime I love you and will love you from afar, as my brother in Christ, praying we both become closer to Christ, Amen.

P.s. I blocked you on facebook.

P.p.s. I have faith that God has better plans for us than each other. [Does that sound bad? If so then I’m kind of proving my point then, aren’t I? I mean, COME ON, how can I be the one for you (God is the only true ONE for all of us) if I’m offending you all the time. Case and point. LOVE YA AS A BRO, BRO!]

 

 

 

 

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Fireworks and distractions

Happy July 4th, I love America.

 

Now that I’ve displayed patriotism, I shall talk about other things. Or maybe this day of independence celebrated by exploding things connects to what I’m about to say – because a lot of people drink beer and then light explosives off that are inches from their fingertips on July 4th, and they lose fingers, and I just put some board games away while cleaning and suddenly my finger is in agony and I can’t bend it. I hurt my finger. That’s how it relates. I didn’t blow my finger off with a firework – but I did hurt it… putting away a game.

As I type this out with one hand and contemplate how frequently and easily I hurt myself, and the fact that my foot still throbs because it’s probably broken too, and I woke up this morning with legs cramping and a body saying – Catherine, I hate you, we hate the world, roll back over and go to sleep, I wonder at what point I’ll have to inform the people I love of my injuries. I don’t like informing people of my pain, their reactions are usually very pitying, and pestering, and involve things like telling me to go to the hospital…and asking me things like why I haven’t been to the hospital yet…

So, I made a doctor’s appointment online for a week and a day from now, and I’ll just ward off their comments until then by masking my pain as exhaustion and anti-social behavior… Except I recently wound up with a boyfriend and he really likes to hold my hand, and he might notice me wincing in pain…or take anti-social behavior personally.

I was wondering the first two weeks of this relationship whether dating him was a good idea, because he seemed to like me so much, and I seemed just about perfect and flawless in his eyes, while he’s a normal human being – but now I remember that I’m secretly bound to fall apart at any moment, and him being able to accept that would be a miracle in itself and that – followed with his continued attempts to actually love me and will my good, would pretty much mean I should marry him…

I’m getting ahead of myself though.

Right now all I know is I’m in pain and it sucks, and I don’t wanna let anyone know because then I get treated like an invalid, except by the doctors who are just like “Yep, you broke something, here’s another cast!”, and then send me out the office because all I am is another patient. So then it’s me, in a cast, facing the pitiful faces of those I love and attempting to make them think everything is fine so that they’ll let me continue to live a semblance of a normal life.

Well, it’s a normal life for me…breaking bones.

I’m probably fine, but I needed to vent.

Pray for me dear readers. Prayers work miracles. In fact, thanks for your prayers for my friend with cancer – all her tumors disappeared. Praise be to God!

He’s the reason for my hope, my joy, and also why I don’t like making a huge deal when I hurt myself, because it always gets better.

 

I do need to go to the doctor though.

Okay, bye!

-Catherine

 

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Filed under Cdukulele's life.

Putting things in Perspective

Life is good.

I’m working on the developing meaningful friendships with people of the opposite sex, and everyone really, and not being so obsessive.

I’m working really slowly, but I’m working on it.

I’m kind of critical of myself and paranoid about what others think of me sometimes. I think that a lot of what they do or don’t do is directly related to some fault of mine. I should stop thinking that way. It’s not healthy, because I can really only control myself and I probably have very little negative influence on these people, if any at all, and if it is there, then it’s probably nothing I can control.

But I tend to think I can control it, and want to control it, because I want to be accepted and approved of.

I don’t know why.

Maybe it’s because I feel so dependent upon others and so unable to really take care of myself, like without people I would be very badly off, and so I want them to approve of me and like me so that I feel safe and secure, because I don’t trust me to take care of me.

And I don’t trust me to take care of me because physically my body still can’t handle as much as a “healthy” person (or so I think), and mentally I’m afraid of something breaking or going wrong and being completely dependent upon others again, especially because the need for neurosurgery came out of nowhere, the neck breaking happened just as I was getting better, and I’m still not confident I’m completely recovered / I expect something else to go wrong.

But nothing should go wrong.

But something could go wrong.

So I obsess about finding people to support and take care of me as insurance against the possibility that I will be helpless and alone.

But life is going good…because…I’m finding people I think I can depend on? People who tell me to stop thinking so negatively. People who give me a slightly more positive outlook, not only in the realm of having people to depend on, but in the realm of actually being able to take care of myself at some point, and that everything will be okay.

Life is good because there are people in my life reminding me that it can be good. Reminding me that I should have a little faith, I can have a little faith.

That it will be okay.

That I’ll get through it, and I won’t be alone, and that I will be able to take care of myself.

Then again I could be struck by lightening tomorrow. That’d be bad…But that’d also be incredibly unlikely, as most of the negative things I dwell on probably are, so I should focus again on trusting in God and trusting in him working through me.

And that is how my mind works, think of something small, go to the extreme of blowing it out of proportion, go back to seeing it in the correct view, calm down.

It will be okay, and it is okay.

Peace and love to you.

 

 

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The words I don’t know how to say.

Dear guy I went on that date with,

I forgot to tell you,

I have a bone disease.

Yeah…

If we get married there’s a 50% chance every kid we’d have would have it. Not that you’re even thinking that far, but I am.

Also, I’m still recovering from a surgery I had a couple years back, and I totally downplayed it after I accidentally brought it up at dinner. You asked me if I was completely fine and I think I said something along the words of “pretty much”.  To be honest, I don’t know how fine I am, and while the concept of going on four hour hikes with you sounds theoretically pleasant, the reality might consist in me falling over halfway through the first hour and crying while rocking back in forth in a fetal position.

That could be an exaggeration, but you seem to be fit and think that my slimness is a sign of my own fitness, but it’s merely a sign of the fact that I don’t know how to cook and most of my meals consists of salads and sandwiches.

Also, back on the bone disease topic, I don’t know how that impacts me in the long run. It’s kind of one of those “rare” sorts that hardly anybody has so they can’t really tell me much about, except that they can use it to explain why I break bones more easily than most people and why I’m already getting arthritis at the age of twenty-four.

So yeah. I guess it would have been more convenient for both of us if I had simply told you about this bone disease when we were on our date last weekend, but I kinda didn’t want to ruin everything right off the bat by immediately having you questioning my health. I think I am trying to convince you that I’m just like anybody else, but I don’t know how long I’ll be able to do that. I mean, I am, I’m just also not.

And the concept of you ceasing to be interested in me upon finding this out kind of hurts. So I was probably also scared to tell you. Maybe you’re special and won’t care, but the experience of one guy not caring afterward was too much for me. Now I kind of protect the information until sharing it becomes absolutely necessary.

So, there it is.

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ODR: The Experience of Pain

Being left out.
Being unable.
Being alone.
Being separated.
Not being strong enough.
Not being awake enough.
Not being happy enough.
Not being good enough.

Failing at everything in comparison.
Failing compared to others.
Failing compared to yourself.

Hurting. Just hurting. Whatever hurts, it is hurting and it won’t stop hurting.
Hurting because you want something you cannot have.
Hurting because you have something you do not want.
Hurting because you want nothing and you still have nothing. Hurting because there is nothing that you can want.

Sympathy, wanting them not to hurt. Empathy, hurting with them.

Pain. Promotes withdrawing from the damaging stimuli.
Withdrawing.
New pain.

Hello Pain. You are a part of my life. You are a part of everyone’s life. I think I know you pretty well. I know you kind of well. I boast about our relationship more than I should like, but I’m merely an acquaintance compared to some of your friends, and few of them can even boast of really knowing you well. Sure, everyone knows you, or knows of you, that is. But how few really know what you are about, what you’re really like?

That instinct to retract your hand from a fire. That voice of common sense. That recognition that you have done something wrong, you have failed this situation somehow, and now your face is blushing with shame and you feel the pain of isolation. The pain of loneliness. Simply a warning. What about accidental pain? Pain that we have no control over, pain that is in no way our fault. How dare that pain enter our lives?

Not by choice, but not without care. I only hurt because my body knows that something is wrong. Something was wrong. It’s simply forgetting that whatever was wrong isn’t anymore. An inability to recognize the health. An inability to see that pain is no longer necessary. It’s not pain’s fault.
Not so much.

So it hurts.

It does hurt.

But the hurt just makes you stronger.

Because it can’t make you weaker.

Before you would never have been able to stand this pain.

Now you can.

You also can’t not stand it.

It just is, whether you like it or not.

But you’re handling it.

So you can help others handle it.

And when you get to a problem that you can’t seem to handle, you can go to someone else, and with their great pain experience they’ll help you handle it.

And when you can’t find anyone who’s suffered more than you and had more pain than you’re experiencing, look to God.

If anyone knows anything about pain and can help you through it, it’s the one who chose it in order to save his children from it, choosing pain out of love.

(composed May 30th, 2014)

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ODR: 15 Things I learned while recovering from Neurosurgery.

Hello, it’s officially been three years since I had my crazy neurosurgery operation, and in honor of the fact that I am still alive right now, I’m posting about it.

Handily I’ve written on this topic a couple times and in honor of my new spirit of, actually publishing old drafts, I’m taking this post from  January 24th, 2014, fixing it up, and presenting it for you today.  Here it is:

15 Things I learned while recovering from Neurosurgery.

1.Learn to live with surprises: Even if you really, really, really, think that it’s the end, and you’re completely prepared for it, you can wake up fourteen hours later incredibly thirsty, and with the odd sensation of being unable to move your upper body.

2. I don’t know how to phrase this but: Eleven pm in the ICU  seems to be the perfect time for the construction crew to jack hammer something. Either that, or morphine has some crazy effects. Point here, you’re not sleeping, but that’s okay, you’re just in the ICU.

3. Appreciate the little things: Recovering in the ICU after surgery 24 hours since your last sip of water gives you a new appreciation for the meaning of the word “thirst”. At this point, the tiny sponge lollipop they give you to dip in water and moisten your mouth with is like an oasis, and the nurse who brought it to you is a saint.

4. People have a great capacity to do good. All nurses are saints. They are amazing people who look upon you in your hour of need, and give you morphine. Or some other pain killer, or bring you a lavender scented hot towel to wipe the dried blood off your head with.

5. People may not always live up to your expectations. The nurses that are part of the night staff may also be saints, but of the tough love variety. They favor doing things like “calling your doctor” before giving you an extra dose of meds, which results in you waiting 45 minutes in agonizing pain to get those meds, and hope they kick in.

6. The stomach has its own clock. Hospital kitchens close, so be hungry when the kitchen is open, and not at 3am when you and your sister are looking at the menu picking out what you actually feel like you could possibly consume. This will result in bitter disappointment that is only satisfied by handfuls of crackers and jello.

7. You are capable of amazing things. Like being spoonfed and not choking to death or dying. While you are capable of doing this, I recommend you avoid being spoonfed at all costs. If the nurse decides that you need help eating because you haven’t eaten in three days, while she may be right, she may not be the best person to spoon feed you. Surviving being spoonfed by an impatient nurse is a great accomplishment, as it means you’ve miraculously found a way to swallow food and breathe at the same time.

8. Curry soup does not deserve to exist. I don’t know why it is even considered a food. It is a malicious attempt to make you suffer for three days while it brings back memories of the spood-feeding horror of the past with its lingering smell on your unwashable neck collar.

9. Pain is relative, EXCEPT NOT. Apparently the official hospital pain chart is on a 1 to 10 scale, and not 1 to 5. Know and memorize this fact. Getting the allotted portion of medicine for the “I’m just unhappy enough not to smile” face when you’re really at the “All pain I experienced up to this point in my life was nothing” face is not fun.

10. Know your limitations, other people won’t. Physical Therapists have both too much and too little faith in you.  You get to walk around the entire building with just a walker! But no, you can’t go the two feet from the bathroom door to the toilet alone.

11. Sometimes you just need to get away. FLYING PTERODACTYLS OF DEATH! Are preferable to another night in the hospital, agonizingly reclining in your bed, wondering if this moment in torturous space and time is ever going to go away.

12. Visitors help time go by faster. They are also far more accurate gauges of how poorly you may or may not be doing, as their faces contort into looks of pity upon seeing you, while doctors just take blood and give instructions.

13. Hold on for dear life. Having a “Wheel chair pusher in training” kind of feels like you might as well be wheeled to the MRI machine by your five year old niece. Also, why does she have a volunteer tag? WHY ARE VOLUNTEERS IN CHARGE OF TRANSPORTING THE GIRL WHOSE NECK IS HELD TOGETHER WITH STAPLES????

14. Be happy to be alive. As you were probably never closer to death than you were in those moments, going under, being operated on, and recovering in the ICU, and you survived that, this means you can probably survive anything. Survive it or not, the main point is that:

15. You are loved. People love you. Enough to drive nine hours in a car with their 9 month old son, a giant stuffed tiger, and a perfect get well card with a kitten on it. Enough to sleep in an uncomfortable hospital chair three nights in a row, keeping you company and massaging your legs when they hurt from not moving for so long. Enough to have their faces contort into looks of pain when they see you suffering. Enough to spoonfeed you until you’re about to choke. Enough to tell you that you should have this operation because otherwise life might end.  Love is limitless, and experiencing the love in this world is worth the pain.

God is good.

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Filed under Cdukulele's life., ODR: Old Drafts Revisited