Friday, November 29, 2019
Thanksgiving for us was a day of work and illness for hubby, and for me, merely existing, in a torpor of fatigue, allover joint pain and muscle pain. The turkey lay in its plastic coat in the fridge, neglected, while ingredients for the side dishes sat untouched. Hubby's had no appetite since he fell ill Tuesday, and I've had little myself. There's no point in cooking a meal that won't be eaten.
Tuesday, November 26, 2019
Elbowing Out of the Ashes
Almost 2 years have passed since my last (2nd) post. Steaming hot piles of poop happen, you know? When life knocks you flat within days or weeks every time you bounce back up, creativity and being a "maker" gets knocked flat too. But I am elbowing my way up, out of the ashes of my former life.
And feeling hopeful, despite the immense difficulty of this new life. I'd lived with chronic pain & chronic illnesses for decades, but this year has taken both pain and disability to a previously unimaginable level for me. I lost most of 2019 to simply existing in a cloud of often blinding pain, brain fog, and learning to adjust to impaired mobility and the inability to stand up straight for more than a minute or so at a time. My calendar is littered with black lines marking activities as no-goes. 2015-2018 were an entire book's worth of numerous, devastating losses that changed our lives forever. The 3 years before that revolved around the excitement of our first grandchild's first years and simultaneously learning to live with the initial terror and perpetual insecurity inherent in a diagnosis of incurable cancer.
The last seven years I've felt like a set of pins in a bowling lane, the ball of calamity striking every few weeks, over over and over, before the pins can stop wobbling, settle into place, and gain a firm footing between strikes. But the last two years have been absolutely unbelievable. There seems to be no end in sight. I'm still on the up-side of the learning curve, clawing my way towards the top.
But this fall I managed to climb out of the brain fog long enough to crochet these three washcloths for a new baby and her moms, and a fourth in a bright pink solid cotton is on my knitting needles.
And feeling hopeful, despite the immense difficulty of this new life. I'd lived with chronic pain & chronic illnesses for decades, but this year has taken both pain and disability to a previously unimaginable level for me. I lost most of 2019 to simply existing in a cloud of often blinding pain, brain fog, and learning to adjust to impaired mobility and the inability to stand up straight for more than a minute or so at a time. My calendar is littered with black lines marking activities as no-goes. 2015-2018 were an entire book's worth of numerous, devastating losses that changed our lives forever. The 3 years before that revolved around the excitement of our first grandchild's first years and simultaneously learning to live with the initial terror and perpetual insecurity inherent in a diagnosis of incurable cancer.
The last seven years I've felt like a set of pins in a bowling lane, the ball of calamity striking every few weeks, over over and over, before the pins can stop wobbling, settle into place, and gain a firm footing between strikes. But the last two years have been absolutely unbelievable. There seems to be no end in sight. I'm still on the up-side of the learning curve, clawing my way towards the top.
But this fall I managed to climb out of the brain fog long enough to crochet these three washcloths for a new baby and her moms, and a fourth in a bright pink solid cotton is on my knitting needles.
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