Sunday, May 11, 2014
I’ve been thinking about whether or not it would be possible for me to re-train my brain so that it stops interpreting pain as pain. Not easy to do. But it’s been so bad; I am just at my wits end. So I tell myself it isn’t pain that I’m feeling. I tell myself I’m feeling euphoric, and that my legs aren’t really on fire, the tumors aren’t really pushing through my skin (picture placing large heavy metal balls on your legs and wrapping them tight in an ace bandage….that’s what the pressure of them growing feels like) and my legs and feet are numb, on top of the pain.
It is so hard to maintain the balance of being in the world yet taking myself out as often and as for as long as possible. Whenever I’m succeeding just a tiny bit, something pulls me back, usually the pain. But it’s like trying to hold onto a really cool dream….you just wake up and it’s over. You can’t maintain that kind of control for more than a few seconds. At least I can’t. I’m sure there are people who can, through practiced meditation.
Have you ever felt you have been kicked out of the club? The list of things I can no longer do makes me feel that way sometimes. I can’t remember the last time I went out for a meal, a movie or even a trip to the library to get a good book. I don’t really care about buying things, but I would like to occasionally feel like I belong to the human race. If it weren’t for the help I get (and my hours have been increased though I don’t know how that will work because my current care givers have full schedules) I’d be insane from isolation and the inability to take care of the simplest things, like grocery shopping. I don’t even remember what it feels like to have the sun shine on me while I walk along a beach. Major pity potty day!!!! I know, I know….roof over head, food in belly, people who care. I’m one of the lucky ones. Woo Hoo!
Seriously, I am grateful I was accepted for help with DSHS and I have someone here for a few hours in the morning. The problem is all the restrictions. They can only drive a total of 60 miles per month which may sound like a lot; but it’s a minimum of five to eight miles for shopping, and since I use three different stores for what I need, that adds up. Last week I used over 15 miles to doctor appointments. One I dragged myself because it was close and I couldn’t get in when they were here. They cannot take me to a PET STORE to get my cat what he needs…..even though Vinnie is part of my life and my needs. It’s beyond frustrating. When I go over the hours the person in charge calls and screams at me. It isn’t my job to keep track; it’s hers. My social worker was here last week and she told me the woman I’m talking about has been a problem for them, but the provider contracts with DSHS so she’s stuck. But my social worker is retiring so I’ll have a new one. I hope she is as good as the one I have.
I’m in a mood.
Posted by Sherri at 9:59 AM