Not The End Of The World

Send to Kindle

It’s been one of those times ( you know them, I’m sure) when the unexpected happens and you’re left in the dust as the world moves forward and you’re left wondering how you’ll ever get back on your feet.  Emails and blogs I’m subscribed to are piling up and it seems like the only thing to do is hit erase and pretend I never got them.  And my writing?  Forget about it.

Two weeks ago I was hit with a pinched nerve in my left shoulder area.  The pain was sharp and intense in my neck, and shoulder. It ran all the way down my arm into my elbow and hand. The first two days I was here alone. Walking the dogs, getting a meal prepared for myself and driving were a nightmare. I went back to see my chiropractor, whom I’d seen just hours before the pain hit.  She readjusted me but nothing changed. The following day I had a two hour massage with one of the best world’s best. It felt better for a few minutes but went right back to feeling horrible. The day after that, a Sunday, Bill was home again. He drove me to Med-Express, one of those places that is open all the time with doctors who are available to help those who are ailing.  The funny doctor there took x-rays, noted that it wasn’t my rotator-cuff, four or five other things, and said, “Yeah, It’s probably a pinched nerve.” He called me “Poor Miss Joan,” and told me I’m not getting any younger but added that I look terrific for my age. He sent me to the pharmacy for a muscle relaxant and prednisone in a pack that you take for six days. Each day you take one less until they are gone.

Nothing much changed.  My stomach became a mess. I was bloated, had indigestion, and worse. I began to wonder if I had some fatal disease. I felt helpless and hopeless. I wanted to write but couldn’t bear the pain. I spent most days in bed. Moving around was just too painful.

I had silly, mini panic attacks. I worried the endometrial cancer I’ve been free of for three years was eating it’s way through my body, similar to the 17 year locusts that invaded the area this summer devouring oak leaves. They made love, laid eggs, and then died. Yikes! Being one with a wild imagination, I worried about what would happen if I did die. Would Bill feed the dogs on time and walk them as I always did the first thing each and every morning?  Would I be able to somehow finish the first draft of my book before I went, if I dictated it to a stenographer?  And would Bill know that I had taken several sweaters to the cleaners last week? And would he remember to pick them up?

If I wasn’t crying, I was trying to laugh.  Sort of.  Monday after seeing the doctor at Med-Express, I called to make an appointment with my own doctor.  She had a full schedule, couldn’t see me and was going out of town for the rest of the week. I made an appointment with her Nurse Practitioner for Wednesday. I called another doctor I’d seen over ten years ago for a rotator cuff problem and is considered the best in town.  He was booked ahead for months. But his associate could see me on the 28^th of August.  I said, “No, if I wait tow weeks to see someone about this problem, I’ll probably be long gone to another world. “

On Wednesday with the pain worsening, I saw Nurse Practitioner, Alycia.  She is lovely and young. I felt like an old, worn out hag, getting ready to sit in my rocking chair for the next ten years, drooling and staring into space.   She told me the stomach problems were caused by the prednisone, that it is very unlikely that the cancer had spread to my shoulder, and no, I wasn’t dying.  She also told me that I had so much inflammation in my shoulder and arm that I needed to go back on the prednisone once I’d finished the pack I already had.  She also gave me a prescription for a stomach soother, told me to enhance the Prednisone with Naproxen, rest, and don’t do anything that hurts.

Well then, what could I do? Every time I moved it hurt. I’ve found that most things require arm motion of some kind.I decided I’d finish the two books I was in the middle of reading, watch something stupid on television, and take advantage of the time by having long afternoon naps. After a while the last two activities got boring.  I wanted to write, go for a walk, and stop hurting.

Very slowly, the pain is moving on.  Today I worked on the computer without my hand getting numb.  My shoulder and neck are still a bit tight, but hopefully that’s coming to an end. Yesterday, I baked banana bread and puttered around with laundry and all the stuff that sits undone as I spend my days not doing much.

Today, I’m reading the blogs I subscribe to, and emails, too. I still can’t go to Pilates, Yoga, run around the block, walk the dogs because they pull, or work in the garden.  But it’s coming. This whole little side-tracking adventure has given me something to cry, giggle and write about. I’ll start work again on my book tomorrow, if I haven’t burned out my arm and fingers writing this little jingle. And I’ll continue feeling grateful that my problems are no worse than they are.

As I send out love, healing light and prayers for my pain to go away, I also send them to all sentient beings every where. And especially to a friend who recently found out she has a brain tumor.

May you be well. May you be happy. May you live in peace.