Posts Tagged ‘pain

30
Dec
15

You Wanna Know How Much I Hate Snow?

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You wanna know how much I hate snow?

How it makes travel, especially foot and road traffic perilous…even deadly?

How it turns into back-breaking cement and takes lives by heart attack?

How mean kids torture their prey by stuffing nonviolent faces into the icy crap?

How it can inflict pain and rash upon the skin, rivaled only by sunburn?

How it can freeze, bursting pipes and ravaging roads treated with salt?

So, to all you dreamers out there who think snow, the white reaper of winter, is the romantic cousin of a gentle spring rain, I’ve got one thing to say to you…

Get help.

Send help.

If you want to experience snow, take your chances traveling somewhere void of human life. Come prepared for anything. VISA might take you there, but it won’t get you out. And, good luck meeting a pretty yuki-onna while you’re lost in the blinding, freezing wilderness.

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05
Nov
15

Writingbolt down!…again!

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Who knows how to check the condition of and stabilize/immobilize a big toe?

I reaaaaally don’t want to see a doctor this week…or in the near future.  I was just getting used to my robotic arm.

Short story even shorter, I was chasing a nephew who was misbehaving outdoors, and I stumbled down a driveway like Humpty Dumpty or Jack sans Jill.  I didn’t break my crown.  But, my one big toe hurts on the side that touches the other toe when it moves.  It flexes okay…not perfectly.  Of course, it could be in shock.  I don’t detect any broken bones.  Just pain.  No swelling.  No blood or bruising.

On top of that, I skinned both knees reaaaal good, tore holes in my pants and gave my nephew a nice scrape on his forehead.  And, then I get the endless guilt trip from family.  Yea, that’s helping me stick with this babysitting job.  Don’t worry about my condition; I’ll just walk it off til I am doing cartwheels.

So….great day so far.  Yep.

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Update:  Toes are in homemade pine coffins.  Thursday evening, I found a nice one-inch purple bruise beneath the nail of the big toe.  It looked like a strip of tape.  I will put up with my toes stinking and bathe the hospital safety way for at least a few days.

Knees are stiff from scabbing and complex bandages…but functioning.

And, WHY are random strangers LIKE-ing and FOLLOW-ing this post but saying nothing?  Two days later, and not a single bit of advice other than not waiting too long to see a doctor.  Nice.  Take plenty of pictures, they will last as long as everything else posted on “the cloud.”  [Speaking of photos, I did take some of my nasty feet.  But, I will not be sharing them.]

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Update 11-13-2015:  Right knee seems fine aside from small healing patch about the size of a quarter, a bit raw from occasionally resting on knee while babysitting.  Left knee appears to be sticking to the bandage, again. I trust the scab and bandage will both loosen up together…or I’ll have to do some tear and repair work on that one (eek).

I took the “coffin” off the big toe.  I am not sure if my left foot always was, but it seems a quarter inch wider than the right one.  There is a thin line of red/blue bruising below the big toe nail and a “blobbish” blue/purple bruise along the right side of the toe about 1 1/2 inches long and 1/8 inch wide.  Flexing seems improved.  The only pain I experience is when I twist or bend the toe to one side.  [Could there still be a hairline fracture or nerve soreness/damage?]

So, it’s only been one week.  I am putting the “coffin” back on and resuming restricted movement during the days I am out and about/working.

08
Mar
15

Tragic Personal Update

I’ll keep this brief as it’s hard for me to resort to pecking with one hand…

I fell on icy snow in a most foolish way.  It’s my fault I dislocated my left elbow.  I didn’t get immediate care…it’s a complicated story.  I saw lots of “professionals” with differing answers.  I had too many useless x-rays.  I was put under so strongly, I thought I died and didn’t sleep the next night.  I thought I’d dodge surgery and ended up with the worst news next to amputation.  My family is too trusting to support my doubts and all I have to help.  I am miserable, feeling hapless and helpless.  And, I can’t help feeling like people took advantage of me.

I’m not me…am I?  I don’t feel like my usual self, and that arm doesn’t match my right.

25
Feb
14

It’s So Sad When You Don’t Know Where to Turn

It’s nothing new, but, upon either going to bed last night or waking this morning, I had a low moment.  And, in this moment, I pondered the weight of discomfort from not having someone with whom I can feel completely comfortable and share my deepest thoughts in the same living space.

Now, for those of you with your heads wired to some digital gizmo like a PC or–more likely these days–a “pad” or “smart phone”, don’t get your brain coils in a pinch.  For some if not most of you, this space right here is where you turn to divulge your deepest thoughts.  This is your breathing room, your therapist couch, your venting space.  You probably have more (Fbook) friends than those you can actually pat on the back and visit with when you’re blue.  For you, this may be a living space.  But, not for me.  This is almost the equivalent of talking to someone through a styro-foam cup phone.  ‘Don’t know what that is?  Look it up.

While it may seem like I am venting, I am but scratching the surface of my brewing, stewing emotions, my volcano of internal conflict that cannot decide which way is up and who to trust.  When you can’t trust your own family and don’t have at least one friend you can sit down with for more than an hour a week, you may find yourself “spinning tires” and wondering what really is right from wrong.  Often I question myself along similar lines.

[I may have written some of this before.]  In my youth, I thought I was always doing right.  At least, I did my best to be good and make my parents proud.  But, beyond my consciousness, there were those who kept pointing at me and telling me what I did wrong.  And, no matter how I tried to remedy the situation, I couldn’t get it right.  Was I simply disobeying instructions?  Was I a rebellious child who needed to be disciplined?  I didn’t think so then.  And, I’d like to think there was/is more to it even now.  But, something denied and occasionally continues to deny me the right to be right in the eyes of others.

Starting probably in high school, I began to distrust people and shed my optimistic naivete.  I began to realize reputations were often lies cooked up to make/demand more money.  I stopped buying into brand names and started scrambling to find my own unique path.  Pretty soon, it seemed no one was left to trust.  Nearly everyone used the same words (I didn’t like) and didn’t seem to care if what they did or said upset me.  Some even snickered and chided me for reacting defensively.  I wasn’t about to trust people who snickered at me when I was upset. 
It’s probably gotten worse over time, the nagging question of trust.  What (commercials) do I believe and which do I just brush aside?  Who’s selling a scam, and who’s trying to offer genuine help?  [I know I’ve made my share of stupid financial decisions, already.  And, I don’t want to continue the trend.]

On top of all this, the judgement of others has influenced MY judgement of others.  I am fairly certain being critiqued and questioned much–if not most–of my life has made me a judge/critic o others.  It’s like carbon dioxide spewing from my mouth.  I don’t consciously take pleasure in it.  But, it happens like breathing.  And, only with aging and deep reflection do I comprehend the reactions of many I meet.  I wouldn’t be too comfortable around someone critiquing my decisions/choices every day.  If they don’t accept me as I am, I know I’ll be on guard/defensive.  However, I think I am possibly more tolerant than some I meet who are quick to turn silent and distance themselves.  I think.

I went through elementary school with a handful of those I’d call friends.  I was lucky if two stuck by me for more than two years.  One did stand by me for nearly ten years before we lost touch.  I went through high school lucky if I had one friend who stood by me for a year.  Every following year, it seemed people changed, and I once more found myself grasping for a life preserver.  As I got out of school and into the working world, making friends became even harder.  There might not have been as much gossip going around, but it was (and has been) difficult to socialize with anyone without some supervisor/boss finding fault with this.  Take it outside of work?  I’d sure like to do that.  But, I can’t seem to find the right words to convince anyone to try it.  No, I was lucky if I could talk at work.  Anything more was cutting into their time with other people.  Or, I didn’t/don’t fit their “circle” (age group).

So, here I sit, with a number of tasks stacked on my “to do” list and little to no “stamina” to see them through “simply” because I feel the need to have some…support (sort of like a small child counting on their parent/s to be there for them) and/or companionship.  And, every day I don’t tackle one of those items, I feel guilty.  I feel lousy.  I endure tension in my body which clamps a vice on my elbow and tightens my breath.  I look around me and tremble, wondering who I should chance speaking with about what’s bothering me.

Then, I look at the computer and think back to all the years I already spent on the thing hoping to make better connections with people far from home.  On top of paying an internet service bill, my eyes have paid for my time here.  And, what do I have to show for it?  Some foggy, bittersweet memories of people who would mean nothing to those I deal with on a daily basis face-to-face. 

I listen to/read/watch the local news and try not to absorb all of the negative, frightful and discouraging crap that goes on here and in other parts of the world.  [I don’t enjoy it but need to stay informed lest I be completely unaware when some important stranger knocks at my door over something I missed.  It’s better (for me) than trying to scan a tiny screen flooding my hands with battery “heat” and wireless transmissions and waiting for my eyes to cross.]

I worry–one of these days–someone is going to come along and pack my life up in a heap or stack of boxes, leaving what’s left of me in the dust with no redeeming sense of satisfaction.  I worry I’m either going to end up homeless, starving and mad…or locked away somewhere because I failed to follow some procedure which was intended to create order even though it upset my soul and the souls of so many others I may encounter.  I worry what the future may bring as stupid humans chase their whims with little to no respect for who is involved/affected by them.  It’s like watching two infants fight over a toy.

Part of me hopes everything will work out for the best (including my best), and that all my worries will be smoothed out by reassurances I simply had to age to find.  Another part of me anticipates some drastic disaster (or prolonged waste of time and resources) that will turn this world into one of those futuristic, dystopian movie settings with robots running amok and people fighting in filthy streets for the last scrap of food or clean water.  If you want my opinion on the possibilities of alien life/worlds and making contact with them, I’d say the aliens should–and probably do–keep their distance until Earth straightens itself out (unless they have the strategy/means humans fail continually to find/establish, the ideal road to mutually beneficial compromise and teamwork without competition over money and/or land).  Otherwise, they risk becoming the next batch of slaves (by feeding human greed) or starting another senseless war (by being viewed as a threat).  Just like those who get divorced struggle (well, some struggle while others jump right into another hot mess) to shed the baggage of the past and start anew, I am not sure the aliens could presently handle Earth’s baggage if they hope(d) to start a friendship.

Some of you out there (here) might come from “broken families” and find it “easy” to take command of your own lives…because you “have to” to survive.  You might not like it, but you see no other alternative to calling hotlines and consulting complete strangers for assistance.  But, for me, growing up with the confusion I did and feeling burned by those I “had to” trust early on, it’s excruciating (like an elderly person who can no longer stand with ease trying to go to the bathroom alone) for me to take those chances.  I don’t multi-task well.  I forget things and miss details when something unexpected suddenly overwhelms and preoccupies my mind.  I fight the forces that drive others to suicide almost daily.  [But, in the end, I may have no choice.  Yet, people say, “There’s always a choice.”  And, I wonder…]




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