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Showing posts with label pain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pain. Show all posts

Sunday

Chronic Pain - Friend or Foe?

Grandpa was an amputee. He lost his leg while working on the railroad as a young man. When "coupling" two railroad cars together, he fell and his leg was crushed between the couplers. He was hauled into the railroad station. A doctor sawed off his leg right there and then (according to what my dad said) after giving him copious amounts of alcohol.

I never knew my grandpa until I was a young adult. I went to live with him and other family members 3,000 miles from home as a young air force wife. I was pregnant at the time, and afraid of the pain of childbirth. I knew grandpa still had pain from his amputation, even in his 80s. I asked him how he could tolerate it so I might have an idea of how to prepare myself for labor. He told me he "made friends with" his pain. He said, he learned to accept his pain better when he decided to stop hating it. I thought that to be very odd. I knew amputees had something called phantom pain that could be quite intense. I admired him for his strength and fortitude.

A couple years after grandpa died I was facing major surgery for bone cancer. (Chondrosarcoma) The doctor told me he would have to amputate half my pelvis, plus my leg. This is called a hemipelvectomy. Quickly, I decided I wasn't going to let this amputation destroy me. I told myself, "If grandpa could do it, so can I!!!" Otherwise I would have been devastated.


As it turned out, I only had a portion of my pelvis amputated (internal hemipelvectomy). I didn't lose my leg after all. Nevertheless, I still have pain now almost fifty years since diagnosis. Like grandpa, I've made friends with my pain. I pay attention to the need to rest. I respect the messages I have gotten over the years that there are certain things my body cannot do, no matter how hard I push. I accept those limitations regardless of what others think. After all, I appear to have a normal body to them. I pay attention to the degree of pain I experience and when I need to medicate myself to help it be relieved, I take something for the pain. Though I prefer to not take opiates.

The pain never goes away entirely. It's always there to some degree. My friend. My shadow. My pain. Lately the pain has been intensified these last few months. It wakes me up in the middle of the night. It suddenly cripples me in the midst of walking. I can barely tolerate it. I calm myself, take a breath, unclench my teeth and I remind myself that hating it will do me no good.

Right now, I have to hang on two more weeks. I have an appointment for an epidural infusion into my spine so that my pain will (hopefully) go away. I have had this procedure many times before over the years. I have always had relief. It helps me stay off the opiates. But now, the epidurals are almost an annual occurrence. You can only have so many epidurals within a certain period of time. Waiting out the time for the treatment has been very distracting. But soon, my friend and I will part ways. I wont miss her at all. Thank you grandpa for teaching me to deal with pain in your unique way.

Monday

Acknowledging Pain

Pain is my friend. 

Once I realized that pain was my "body adviser, or mentor", I paid attention to it instead of trying to ignore it. 

I taught myself how to treat it, how to prevent it, how to work with it, and accept that it comes and goes. 

And my life choices can still be enjoyed. 

Yes, I go with the pain. 

For me, I understand that the strength I gain from living life fully, even with pain, is only part of what it's all about. 




Pain is like the weather.... It's changeable.

Today I had a medical procedure to help relieve some pain I've been dealing with for a long time. 

It didn't go well and I ended up in more pain. 

But, I know it will change in a few days as the steroids take effect,.

Then I can return to my methods of physical therapy to strengthen and enhance what my body can do.



(Note: in case you think I don't know what pain is, this is the result of bone cancer, chondrosarcoma from 45 years ago. The pain my body carries never ceases. It is always there in varying degrees. Always.)






Thursday

Aging Pain


Looking to the future

I wonder if pain will continue

throughout the next thirty years.

I wonder if doctors

will proliferate in my life.

I wonder if coping will be

my everyday strategy,

if the enemy shall wake me,

accompany me each moment

throughout the hours

like it did the generation before me.

Are genes my destiny?

How will I break free

of the pattern

that's already begun?




~~~~~~~~~
Note: Digital art by Elizabeth Munroz

Wednesday

AUNTIE ANGST

She stood in the grove 
emptying her heart
into the darkness,
crying out to the trees.


Oh, hear me! Help me!
I am your little child,
a crone before my time.
My youth has been stolen from me
betrayed by the revolutions of the earth
My heart beats only acid through my veins.
like cities choked with carbon dioxide.
I am the desolated forests of the summer fires.
Nothing left but ashes.

Yet, the crone limps away
beneath the moon, tottering...
the pain of over-ripe decline
prematurely stabs
like some ancient soldier
hacking at the enemy
with a heavy sword.

She sits, quietly breathing,
ignoring the pain with resolve.



I smile... talk... laugh with others
and no one knows what is gnawing
like some unseen dragon
crunching my bones.
The physical pain is bearable,
even the searing fire in my veins.
But the pain in my outraged spirit
is wailing and ranting across the galaxies
as it hurls itself further out into the cosmos
searching for peace 
and a shred of hope.

~~~~~

Digital art and poem by Elizabeth Munroz

Tuesday

Redemptive Creature of Pain

Deep within lies a slimy, pathetic Monster writhing in pain. We all know him. His own worst enemy, is he, only conscious of misery. He cannot see beyond himself. Pain lingers about him, like so many tangled wires jumbled in static giving off fumes.

Pain is his cousin who never goes away only to be dealt with in twisted anger, self victimized, ostracized. Unreachable, untouchable, unworthy of redemption, he refuses to break through his self-imposed barriers; believes he is helpless
against the invisible foe.

Pain is unacceptable, not a legitimate entity. Pain has planted thorny swords of barbed wire, preventing easy access. Pain wrapped in self loathing cannot move or grow. Tears of self pity, cover him like unshakable slime, his fears convincing him the pain will not desist. Self-flagellation wounds ooze thickly. He tells himself "it's all I am meant to be, just pain"

A most despicable Beast, unworthy and shamed,
is but one who needs tender love and healing nonetheless. Dear Beastie, I come to you, my hand outreached to comfort,
yet, you stab me with your lightning bolts, unwilling as a cowering porcupine. You can only unleash your pain yourself, I see. Did you know I was once like you?

By soothing voice, I sing to you. By soft-coated whispers, I encourage you to breathe, and unwind the chains you have wrapped about yourself. Hiding in the poppies to cover the pain, locked you further away from the truth of you, brought increased harm and alarm and no remembrance of who you are.

And so, I calm my mind, my aching heart, my stress-filled body to accommodate your need for undivided attention, your need for redemption from your false beliefs to embrace what I once thought was the enemy. Without your spiky armor, you appear quite harmless.

With your oozing wounds placated, your tears dried away, you are quite a cuddly creature and purr readily when petted.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Dedicated to the dark within us all.

Sunday

Dangerous Friend

Steroids save my life,
stop the fantasies
of giving up,
prevent me
from the anguish
of pain
return to me
the skill of ambulation.

Steroids are my dangerous friend.
They make my heart pound
like an angry wind at the door,
but I love how well
they make me feel!
I don't want them!
Osteoporosis results, they say.
I don't have enough
cortisol of my own
to do the job.
I don't want them,
but I need them.

They're like a
Jesus healing
at the big tent,
all the folks in wheel chairs
brought up on stage,
then they dance a jig
down the aisles.
Praise the Lord!
Praise the Lord!

I don't dance jigs
nor go to tent preachers.
I've got the best healing doctor.
With a needle in my spine
filled with steroids,
I can ambulate
down the hallway
without my walking stick,
get in the car and drive
Next weekend I will
assemble the sun shade canopy!
Praise the Lord!
Praise the Lord!

~~~~~~
Note: Picture is from the Turbo Squid website.

Wednesday

Bearing Pain

I'm in sooo much pain.... 

writhing...

squirming...

teeth gritting...stabbing...pain

I can hardly bear it.

I think my pelvis slipped away from the sacroiliac joint a little bit.

Can't see the pain doc until next Thursday.

taking Dilaudid when I can't take it no more, then have to stay in bed

hate it!

Saturday

Good Day! Sunshine?

Awakening into today

Does today have a label?
A designation selecting it out from any other day?

How does today,
This day,
Differ from any other?

Obviously not the same
Yet, it seems like just another piece of hell
Infusing itself into existence.

Doesn’t begin.
Doesn’t end.
Just another day.

Foggy, cold, empty, gray
Like my pain,
Medicated and Polluted
with poison smog-thoughts

Cyanide tetrachloride images
Twist their bizarre sneering faces.
Racing in fast-forward,
Everchanging clouds of human misery.

Compassionless, tortured souls
Caught there,    
continually escaping

By channeling themselves
Into dimensions
Beyond the realms of time.

Only to reappear again
More grotesque
And pathetically devoid
Of being worth salvaging.

The cat, in heat, yeowls,
and growls again.

Does she see them, too?



Elizabeth Munroz 
March 1991
Photos by E.M.

Monday

What is happiness?

"Happiness. You deserve it. You have earned it. You get to have it and be present in this life, in this place, here and now."

This I found on the blog site of Dot Hearn  called The Writing Vein. In her writing she suggested in focusing on writing about happiness.

I think happiness is a personal thing. You and I might not experience happiness from the same source. So, here is my viewpoint on what happiness is for me.

Happiness is remembering childhood experiences, writing about them and discovering nuances I had not previously recalled.

Happiness is reading old letters from family and friends that were sent to my parents from 1937 to just a few years ago when they both left this world.

Happiness is thinking fondly of my parents in new ways, looking at them from the perceptions of others in ways I wasn't open to. It's like discovering and loving them with a door open into their lives which I never passed through. It's a treasure I never knew existed.

Happiness is seeing my adult children being successful in ways I could never foresee, learning to like them for who they are now. Yes, I would happily include them in my circle of friends if they were strangers, I recently met them and got acquainted.

Happiness is seeing the most incredible thing come true, that I never thought could possibly take place in my lifetime. I have grandchildren, some who are adults and have found their place in the world. Some who are still getting their education and well focused on their goals for their future place in the world.

Happiness is a miracle that never even occurred to me would happen. Not only do I have children and grandchildren, I have great grandchildren. They are all beautiful souls who have come into live to make our hearts break with loving them. They are the future to carry us forward. How long I will live to see where they go? I don't know. It gives me happiness just to know how they grow, how their personalities are developing, and yes, even their grumpiness, when it manifests.

Happiness is embracing the suffering and survival of my past, and welcoming the knowledge and compassion which it has brought me. It turned me unto a path I never would have taken. Happiness is knowing that I actually have strength and courage I didn't think. I can be thankful, in some ways, for the torment I endured.

Happiness is having a day without pain, a day I can walk naturally, a day where I feel emotionally as close to what one might consider "normal".

Happiness is realizing I have a smile on my face just from looking at LOL cheezburger cats, or experiencing something on YouTube I never would have consider worth watching until that moment, thanks to friends and family for sending me the links.

Happiness is going through sixty years of old photographs, having my Grandparents histories, wondering about old timey things about which I haven't a clue.

Happiness is knowing who my ancestors were, learning about their culture, geography and history of where they lived. Knowing where I came from made me feel connected to the past for many generations. It made me feel more than I am, more than one person, alone on this planet, more than just one set of DNA.

Happiness is having a digital camera so I can take as many pictures as I want without having to worry about the cost of having them printed, deleting all the unacceptable ones, and finding that one perfect picture I didn't realize I had managed to catch with my camera. Those are the kinds of pictures I want printed and framed.

Happiness is being aware I've got a smile on my face that was not there before, a smile I have when I'm by myself and not triggered by someone else, a smile that is my very own. Those smiles are so important to me, especially because of a lifetime of not smiling, of living with depression. Smiles are like little dancing sparkles bursting from my heart and warming me inside and out, even if they only last a minute.

Happiness is my 20 year old cat looking eye to eye with me while the universe and we became one during her last moments. Naturally, there was grief and sadness involved, but that experience is etched in my soul forever in a kind of deep "knowing" that truly is indescribable.

I think I would be bored if I was happy all the time. I would have nothing to compare it to, nothing to make me cherish it all the more because it is so rare and precious.

 ~~~
Present in the group photo above are: from left to right starting at the top row; Clint Mountain, David J. Deane, Bill Reuter Sr., James Deane, xxxxxx?, xxxxxx?

Bottom Row, Clint's son or nephew, Suzan Deane,  Bill Reuter Jr., Genevieve Borden Deane, Roger Deane, and last but not least our dog, Tammy

~~~

The picture of the young man on a Youtube page is my adult son, Xavier who works in the video game industry.

~~~
From the old time picture from 1911 My Grandmother's sister, Anna Evans in Thompson car in front of Ned O. Tarbox's store. Cattaraugus County, New York

~~~

The picture of the calico cat is Keli as described above

Thursday

Redeeming Pain


Deep within
lies a slimy,
pathetic Monster
writhing with pain.

We all know him
His own worst enemy, is he
only conscious of misery,
he cannot see beyond himself.

pain lingers about him,
like so many tangled wires
jumbled in static
giving off fumes

Pain is his cousin
who never goes away
only to be dealt with
in twisted anger

victimized, ostracized,
unreachable, untouchable
unworthy of redemption

he refuses to break through
his self-imposed barriers
believes he is helpless
against the invisible foe

Pain is unacceptable
not a legitimate entity

pain has planted
thorny swords of barbed wire,
prevented easy access
pain wrapped in self loathing
cannot move or grow

tears of self pity,
cover him like unshakable slime,
his fears convincing him
the pain will not desist.

self-flagellated
wounds ooze thickly
He tells himself
"it's all I am meant to be,
just pain"

A most despicable Beast,
unworthy and shamed,
is but one who needs
tender healing, love nonetheless.

Dear Beastie,
I come to you,
my hand outreached to comfort,
yet, you stab me with your lightning bolts,
unwilling as a cowering porcupine.

You can only unleash your pain yourself, I see.
Did you know I was once like you?

By soothing voice, I sing to you.
By soft-coated whispers,
I encourage you to breathe,
and unwind the chains
you have wrapped about yourself.

Hiding in the poppies
locked you further away,
brought increased harm and alarm
No remembrance of who you are.

And so, I calm my pain focused mind,
my aching heart, my stress-filled body
to accommodate your need for undivided attention,
your need for redemption of your false beliefs
to embrace what I once thought was the enemy

Without your spiky Armor,
you appear quite harmless.

With your oozing wounds placated,
your tears dried away,
you are quite a cuddly creature
and purr readily when petted

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Art created by Xavier Rodriguez

Tuesday

Suicide Attempt? or Blessing?

I was a youngster, practically. And I used to cry and moan and twist in pain in my hospital bed, saying "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus," and "Oh, My God"

Now mind you, I was pretty much out of my head not only with the pain, but the morphine they were shooting into me every four... or if they forgot, five or six hours, sometimes later. Some compassionate woman from down the hall, got herself out of bed to come find the one who was calling on God. She found me and proceeded to tell me how she would pray with me and for me. Praise the Lord, thank you Jesus...

Oh, my. I shut my mouth and smiled at her. There was no way I was going to get into a religious argument with her, no way I was going to go through a major guilt and conversion session, and soon she was gone. I was very bitter, and at that time was Atheist. Little did she know that I had been cussing, "taking the Lord's name in vain", otherwise I don't think she would have been so interested in praying with me. I guess I should have said "goddammit", as my Mother would have said if she was hurting.

Doctor MeanGuy had been in that day to tell me the tests showed my bladder was shreds and there was nothing they could do with it, except connect the ureters to my bowel. Of course that would mean a lifetime of E-coli infections and who-knows-what-all backing up into my kidneys.

I knew little medical terminology. But I sure as hell knew bad news when I heard it.

Since I had cancer and wasn’t expected to live anyway, I just thought I would take things into my own hands and get it over with. I was so despondent about what that doctor had said. I had had enough surgeries!!! I had had enough pain and suffering. I had enough of hospitals, doctors and nurses. Enough of living in fear.

Needless to say, the little old Italian woman, Mrs. Calabresi who was in the bed across from me, (four to a room was a luxury in those wards) watched all this with bright eyes. I loved that old woman. I don't know why anymore. Every morning the priest would come in to give her last rites, every afternoon her adult kids would traipse in to see if she had died yet, and quietly leave. Every evening she would attempt chat with us but mostly listened. I didn't know much about her diagnosis except that she had something terribly wrong with the arteries in her legs, ( I think) and she couldn't walk and was expected to make her exit quite soon.

So, that night when I decided to cut the intravenous line and the bladder catheter tubes (one came out of my abdomen) she figured it all out, got out of her bed, and walked over to me. I was so shocked to see this, you'd think Jesus walked on water! Anyhow, she lovingly stroked my forehead, I got tears in my eyes. Real tears not the tears of the frightened girl in pain. And she touched her heart, then my heart, speaking in her broken Itali-nglish. I understood quite a bit, anyhow, as I lived in Niagara Falls. Either you were Italian or Polish, I was neither but heard the languages all my life. Anyhow, she said things like, “you be better, God will help you.” That's the woman I could be honest with. “No, God wont help me, I don’t believe in God, I'm mad at God!”

She completely disarmed me by saying: “You no like God? Tha's okay! Madre di Dio si curerà. God's Mother make better!”

My mind went completely blank... a concept I couldn't conceive, God’s mother? Calabresi had me and she knew it.

"Okay Now? A pregare la Madonna You pray!" I just stared at her. "You pray! I pray!"

I couldn't say no. I would have done anything she asked me. She had a "green scapula" with her. (How it suddenly appeared threw me. Did she have it in her hand all along and I didn't notice. Why, of course!) She held it up for me to see the Blessed Virgin. She showed me the words encircling her picture. Then we said the words together.

"Again!"

We said it again. We repeated it quite a few times. Then she put it in my hands and curled my fingers around it telling me to pray all the time... well, three times a day, ten times over, or maybe it was the other way around. By this time I was hypnotized, and I can't even remember how fervently I did this. Though it really did calm me, and I felt prepared to go beyond, whatever that would be. I still was mad at God and still didn't believe in him. (Yes, yes, an oxymoron, I know, but had little logic back then. Hmmm maybe less now)

Soon the nurses were in there putting in a new IV and one catheter. They couldn't do anything about the one leaking into my abdomen. The doctor would have to repair the damage surgically.

So, that was why I was cutting things. I had scissors, but no razor, so this would take time. Damned nurses. If I had turned that light on needed assistance they never would have come in all night long. Just when you don't want them, they come along and bother you.

So, the next day, they had to take me into emergency surgery. After I woke up Dr. Neisen (the nice one, see? I remember his name after all these years) came in beaming. I was still kind of druggy from the anesthesia but so glad to see him. He said, "I don't know what happened, but your bladder is all in one piece. All we had to do was sew up the hole where your abdominal catheter was located."

Smiling nurses came in to see that I was comfy and all tucked in. When they pulled back the curtain, I could hardly wait to tell Mrs. Calabresi. But her bed was all made up tight as a drum. She and all her belongings were gone. Nobody had to tell me where she had gone.

The next day, I asked for the priest. He came in. I told him about the miracle, and that I wanted to become Catholic. After he asked a few questions he told me no. It was impossible. I was a married woman, on my way to a divorce and previously baptized and confirmed in a non-catholic church. I was pretty insulted. After all, it had been a Catholic miracle. He agreed it couldn’t have been anything less. But that wouldn't make any difference where my soul was concerned.

He left, and then I was REALLY pissed at god!

For a long time after that though, I went to the shrine of Our Lady of Fatima in Youngstown NY, and had some peaceful times. But, I never converted, even after the "rules" got loosened.

This is the tip of the iceberg of how I coped with the diagnosis and surgical challenges. Very badly, until Mrs. Calibresi stepped in. Then, very calmly, because,  “Tha's Okay.” I could always talk to God's Mother.

Monday

Eternal Change

Inner pain, outer pain,
it all exists for the benefit of change,

Thoughts are only shells of ideas,
hopes are soft feather-down 
from angel's wings.
and rain is the tears
from every heart ever bled.

Death embraces all things
in one final ecstatic love.

Fear gives rise 
to the quest for answers,
and truth sheds light 
throughout the shadows of shame.

Laughing dolphins have more intellect
than stars shining from the darkness.
Yet darkness holds the key to deepest joy.

Whispering trees haunt the living forests
while fallen leaves dance on rock faces 
just to tease the sky.

And little children without legs 
are forced to watch their fathers murder.

Hearts break for all the wrong reasons.

Nothing can be grasped with closed fingers.

Swirling coldness dries up the ground before putting it to sleep.

Remember... Eternity is just a breath away.

Sunday

Heart Wide Open

 
Live each day with

heart wide open, 

take the pain

and the beauty

as it comes.

Life will be easier in the long run.
~Elizabeth Munroz