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I think I did quite well this week, considering the setback I had with the ankle pain. I’m still working to dance each and every single day, but I’m definitely moving in the right direction!
Sunday
Bike 5.75 miles
Monday
Dance 30 minutes
Arm PT
Spine PT
Tuesday
Dance 20 minutes
Wednesday
Dance 20 minutes
Thursday
Dance/meditation — untimed
Friday
Swim 1K
Shabbat
Spine PT
Arm PT
Dance 53 minutes
Feldenkrais
I’m having a setback. Last week, someone at the meeting of my spiritual group decided that she didn’t have the time to walk behind the four chairs of the row in front of her, so that she could use the designated walkway to get to the bathroom. Instead, without warning, she leapt over the chair to my right.
Not only I was startled — which in itself causes a shock to my nervous system and therefore pain in the weak parts of my body — but I was sitting crosslegged and saw that her foot was heading right toward mine. So in a protective move, I yanked my foot out of the collision path.
That action triggered an old ankle injury, causing pain that got progressively worse over the next couple of days and affecting everything from my ability to get around to my ability to sleep. One night, for example, as I shifted the position of my leg, I got a jolt of excruciating pain in my ankle — a 10 on the classic pain scale of 1-10.
I’m now having trouble walking in my own apartment, never mind from one location to another. This disability in turn is having a negative impact on everything in my life — my ability to exercise, to shop for things I need, to wear shoes other than sneakers, to do my laundry, to otherwise go up and down the three flights of stairs to my apartment. It also has affected my state of mind, leaving me feeling angry at and frustrated by other people’s carelessness.
I take excellent care of myself — among other things, implementing precautionary measures wherever I can anticipate them. At the meetings of my spiritual group, for example, I specifically make a point of sitting in a chair where there is space around me, so that I don’t end up getting accidentally banged into by someone else. And a couple of minutes before the meeting adjourns, I get up and stand to the side, waiting until the crowd thins before heading back into the center.
But how could I possibly have predicted that someone would jump out from behind me, considering that we were at a meeting — not a track and field event or elementary school playground? And why is it that people do things like that without any warning? Above and beyond all else, it’s rude and inconsiderate, disrespectful to the body space of another human being. Just taking an extra two seconds to say “excuse me” would have given me the heads-up I needed to avoid this situation altogether.
What’s more, these kind of behaviors amp up the sense of anxiety that those of us with disabilities have walking through the world. We don’t just have to navigate through the challenges already presented to us. We also have to anticipate and proactively defend ourselves against the abrupt, careless behaviors of those around us.
And sometimes we just cannot predict those things: The woman who jumped over my wheelchair because doing so was faster than walking around it. The cyclist who ran into me from behind, on a sidewalk. The doctor who dumped a cup of liquid nitrogen onto the examining table, splashing it into my eye, because he thought it would be fun to watch the bubbles bounce. The driver who came into my lane and crashed into me head-on.
These behaviors can impact our lives not only by injuring or re-injuring us, but also by emotionally traumatizing us — promoting a sense of fear, a feeling that the only safe place is in our homes, alone. As such, these behaviors contribute further to the isolation experienced by those of us with chronic pain and other forms of chronic illness and disability.
As far as this incident goes, I am taking a week off of my meetings, because suddenly I do not feel safe in them. I need to let the emotional charge of this incident pass before I can go back. I also need to feel strong enough that I can tell the woman who jumped over the chair exactly how her behavior impacted me.
Meanwhile, I am reminding myself that I have this blog specifically so that I can express my anger and distress, then let it go. Hanging onto the frustration and sadness only feeds negativity into my nervous system. So now that I have put this experience out into the universe, I will focus my attention on feeding positive, loving, healing energy into my ankle; living at the edge of my physical ability in each given moment; and rejoicing in what I can do instead of grieving over what I can’t.
This post is a continuation of “Angel in My Life: Responding.”
Just a week later, I was back up north, transferring my mom from the nursing facility hell hole to an independent living facility, arranging her home care, setting up her new space, and fending off a family member who – in an extended narcissistic temper tantrum – threatened to unravel the entire undertaking. Meanwhile, despite the battered emotional state I was in, I continued my quest to quietly put myself in Allen’s presence, in the hopes that he would begin stepping toward me and opening his heart once more.
As I headed toward the mini-market in the hotel lobby on Monday morning, I saw Allen down the hall and said hello. When he responded “hey” back, his expression appeared not only surprised but also a tad annoyed. And so, while fishing around for sugar-free cereal, I considered ditching Project Allen altogether. I was somewhat of a wreck and couldn’t handle any more drama.
I was also, however, fully engaged in social experiment mode, intrigued about what would happen next. And damn it, I wanted my morning latte. So I headed toward the café for the umpteenth time. As I passed the window, Allen looked out and, upon seeing me, burst into a huge grin. Then, when I walked into the café, he came out from behind the counter, opened his arms, and gave me a hug. A stiff, bony-assed, quick hug, mind you, but a hug nonetheless.
Following the old hi-how-are-you-fine-thanks-how-are-you, Allen fiddled with receipts he’d lined up on the counter. He looked down, saying nothing. His energy seemed content, almost expectant. I, to the contrary, felt awkward, pressed for time, and slightly annoyed: What, he’s just going to sit there and leave me standing here uncomfortably? Does he expect me to do all the work? Is he reveling in my chasing him?
“I hate to be abrupt,” I interjected into the silence, with as friendly a tone as possible, “but I gotta cruise. I have a conference at the nursing facility, and I’m running late. Can I get a medium latte?” Allen’s body stiffened and straightened — facial expression going blank, demeanor turning professional. “Of course,” he replied, working his way around the counter and quietly beginning to fix my drink. Oh, she’s only here for coffee, his body language seemed to register in a jolt.
Damn it.
After a lull, I initiated small talk. “So are you getting out and enjoying the sunshine?” I asked. “No,” he replied with a knowing smile, “I’m not enjoying much of anything right now.”
We continued to chit-chat, the conversation becoming increasingly relaxed and friendly. Finally, Allen finished up the latte and placed it on the counter. “This one’s on me,” he said. “Thanks darling,” I replied, scooping it up and heading towards the door. “I’ll see you later.” He began coughing as I stepped outside. ”Feel better!” I shouted behind me. “Thanks!” he called back. I smiled with the feeling that things were returning to normal.
After recommitting to my body last week, I experienced a major transformation in my sense of physical health. I’ve decided to take up a practice I used to have on this blog – writing an exercise log, to keep me on track. So here it is for the past week:
May 9
May 10
May 11
May 12
May 13
May 16
Dance 30 min
On the surface, the older women/younger men dating phenomenon may seem irrelevant to the topic of chronic pain. While it may not have much bearing on men in pain, it certainly does have significant implications for women in pain.
For starters, women in pain may view the whole pass-a-watermelon-through-my-nostril thing (alternately known as childbirth) with less of a starry-eyed view than women who never have experienced chronic pain or other forms of chronic illness. As in, been there, done that, gonna pass, thank you very much.
In addition, those of us in pain may have little energetic marbles to spare for a brood of scrappy, energetic kids running around the house, in constant need of our attention.
With respect to these two points alone, removing ourselves from the whole dating-marriage-childbirth script puts us at odds with a society where older men generally turn to younger women for partnership – among other things, so that the women can birth the men’s children. Younger men pursuing relationships with older women, however, turn the whole I’m-marrying-an-incubator model on its head.
Then we have the fact that women in pain are often isolated from community, and that internet dating sites predominantly feature men looking for women as much as two decades younger but no more than two or three years older, if that. Where does this reality leave the 40-something chronic pain hottie chick splayed on her couch with a crate of Vicodin, looking for some love in Cyberspace?
Lastly, women in pain are, well, women. And like all of us navigating through this patriarchal world, we can use a little shake-down of the system. The revolutionary potential of older women/younger men relationships affects us too. So if I’m rattling off about this whole cougar-cub thing on my chronic pain site for the next few weeks, you’ll know why.
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