Yesterday I forced myself to water my houseplants, they needed it badly after a few sunnier days with the windows open, and it’s always pretty dry in my house. I filled the watering can up just fine, carried it twenty steps across the living room from the sink, hurting but still relatively normal, and then suddenly as I barely got past watering the first few plants my muscles all started to shake, horribly. I was shaking so violently that my boyfriend could see it from across the room and insisted that I take a break. I did, but my strength didn’t come back, and it still hasn’t. As I finished up, one half-full watering can at a time spread throughout the rest of the evening, the severe spasms kept happening, and not just in one leg like happens when I’ve dislocated something, this was in every part of my body, from my fingers to my thighs to my feet, everything just quit on me.
I’m a little scared. This is maybe the fifth time this level of weakness has happened in the last three years, but some weakness and shakiness are near daily companions now. However, helplessly watching my own legs twitching and flopping around like an electrified frog while I cling to the table with quaking arms, that scenario still leaves me a little unsettled. I’m really not sure whether to be terrified, to chalk it up to a newer aspect of my Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and Fibromyalgia, or to roll my eyes and try not to think about it at all.
The mysteries that come along with chronic illnesses are not part of their charm. This newest episode is just one of dozens of odd symptoms that I can’t keep straight anymore.
Tonight I am getting some good animal therapy time in, with our roommate’s dogs while he and his family are visiting a friend overnight. The better behaved of the two girls, Jasmine, is an actual therapy dog, certified and everything, so she’s always great at comforting me when things are shitty, scary, or uncertain. I’m glad for the comfort and distraction two dogs on our couch provides.
Along with the shakiness from yesterday has come insomnia, severe stiffness, SI joint pain that ruins me, and one partial dislocation after another, accompanied by the normal loud ka-thunk-ing and popping my joints do when they are the main culprit of my pain.There have been some pretty severe migraines, chest pains, and nausea as well. Lucky me!
It’s honestly not all bad news lately, I’ve been keeping it together pretty well and I have been proud of myself consistently for the attitude I have kept up.
Spring has sprung and I can’t turn back the clock, only try to keep up. The veggie garden is becoming a demanding part of my daily life. My boyfriend bought cedar planks last week and built me two new raised beds wrapped with landscaping fabric so water can escape, but not dirt. We set them on the pavement, having officially run out of back yard to convert to food growing spaces. In defiance of my illness I have started a planting and preserving schedule that will keep me busy all summer and part of fall. On the flip side it will also provide lots of nutritious food for both families living in my house as well as my business partner and her new son.
It has actually, despite setbacks healthwise, been a few weeks of getting more than usual done, out of sheer willpower. Sometimes willpower isn’t going to fix anything, though. Yesterday was one of those times. Hopefully it doesn’t happen again. Hopefully nothing else weird happens, period. (Cue: laughter)
In the meantime, wishing everyone a low pain week. ❤
It’s pretty wonderful to make it through an episode you previously didn’t know you could make it through without help. Although the crippling level of pain I have endured the past two days has been completely unbearable by my standards, I did bear it. I don’t know how, I don’t know if my grandma was watching over me, but it felt that way.
This was my gift yesterday from my garden. I’m not religious, but things like this used to happen to my grandma all the time, so if she is by my side, this is definitely her way of saying I did a good job. Thank you, Grandma B. It’s difficult to grow melons in Oregon, even with a good season like we had this year. It’s difficult for me to have a garden at all with how ill I have been, but it would be harder still to not having one, to not see the growth and surprising tenacity of my plants as they make it through another summer of spotty watering and weird Oregon weather.
This beautiful melon managed to make my day yesterday. I cut it up and saved the seeds that had not already germinated. Delicious, sweet & flavorful liquor ran all over the cutting board as soon as I opened it. It may not have reached it’s full yellow potential, but it was definitely ripe!
Little big moments, like finding a perfectly ripe melon in the middle of a rain burst, are the things that keep us going when we are in pain all the time, when we are scared, when we are uncertain about the future or about the people around us. They are the things I hope to remember about each day, instead of the searing hot pokers in my legs and low back, or the steady drilling sensation in the back of my skull. Rather than focus on today being the day I got my brain scans back, I would rather remember that my garden did well this year even though I could not tend it like I usually do. Rather than focus on my lack of ability to clean the house, I would rather remember that I did somehow manage to get the dishes done and make something approximating a homemade dinner yesterday.
There are big victories to be found while living with a chronic illness, certainly, but they do not happen every single day. These little moments of strength, however, they actually do happen daily. The catch is that they only exist in reality if we know how to see them clearly through the emotional and physical chaos of chronic conditions, and that is a journey that doesn’t happen overnight. You don’t have to notice them every day for them to strengthen your soul, even once a week saying to yourself, “I did that, and I am proud of myself,” can make a huge difference over time. Sometimes you need help, and sometimes you need to do something difficult on your own.
I am proud of myself for getting through a serious attack without the panic and the momentary loss of self that sometimes accompanies a flare up. I am proud of my boyfriend for letting me wail and cry and scream my way through the episode without getting frustrated at me. And I am proud of my garden for producing such a beautiful melon even though it has been raining all week.