4 posts tagged “pain”

I spend too much of my time trying to avoid things, people, and places that make me feel uncomfortable or distressed. I'm not good at shrugging things off. I am the elephant who cannot forget certain memories; memories tucked deeply into the folds of my cerebellum. But I don't know what to do about it. Time heals all wounds, or so I've heard, and I think it's generally true. But what do I do until then--until the day it doesn't hurt anymore? Should I write about these things, on the theory that it's better to draw out bad blood that to let it fester? Or should I keep trying to distract myself with British comedies and endless games of Bejeweled 2?

My sinuses have taken my head hostage. They have swelled with pride and indignation and other, less wholesome things, and they are refusing even to negotiate. It is a sit-in, an occupation, and a work stoppage in one. All the muscles leading to my big fat head are aching in solidarity with one another. I went to the drugstore and surrendered my driver's license so I could buy pseudoephedrine. I was willing to do whatever was necessary. They probably could have talked me into a tattoo.

There is something else afoot, up, on, but I'm still not ready to tell. Tomorrow I should be ready.

You ever do anything really stupid, realizing as you do it how stupid it is? Maybe the rush of pain helps the realization along? Yeah.

There are a whole bunch of little bones in the foot and apparently one of my little bones is cracked or broken. We were on a picnic with Frank and Fiona and Frank's sister and her two kids, and I had this bright idea: Let's play soccer, grown-ups against the kids! So far, so good. But the ground was wickedly pockmarked, and I was worried about my bothersome knee. I spotted Felony's sneakers on the grass and ding! I decided to take my mary janes off, thinking it might help me keep my footing.

Which was fine, until I got tired and switched into goal. Next thing I know, I've just punted the ball with my bare foot and YOW! my foot!

Stupid!!

So I put my shoes back on and eventually torqued my knee, too. Which is fine now. But my foot is so swollen I'm not sure I could get my shoes on if I wanted to.

Adding insult to injury, Jinx said later, "You weren't very good."

Little shit.

Just finished my October class report for the teaching job I quit last week. My eggs are now officially in one basket. The writing basket. I've been on the computer more in the last couple of weeks than I have been in months. So not surprisingly, I begin to feel strain in my right shoulder, elbow, wrist, fingers. It reminds me that I have to do this the right way.

Do I need a better chair? I'll get a better chair. If I have to write drafts by hand, so be it. I'll learn to write left-handed, redistribute the workload. Whatever it takes. I can't let myself get to the place I was at a couple of years ago, on a deadline, and I literally could not bear the pain of typing even a few words.

I never took RSIs seriously until I injured my shoulder with a torn rotator cuff a few years ago. I wanted to start swimming again, but instead of taking it slow, I was piling it on. I tried to re-learn all the strokes with a few laps apiece, and I saved the Butterfly for last. As I was heaving myself out of the pool, I felt the pain commence. "Huh," I remember thinking. "That hurts." It didn't frighten me. I thought it would hurt for a couple of days, then go away. I didn't realize it wouldn't let up again for weeks--months. I'd never experienced chronic pain before where it couldn't be relieved after a day or two by some combination of activities and treatment. But this took more than two years to get to where I wasn't re-injuring it every few weeks.

And all of this was on top of the knee injury I was trying to get beyond when I injured my shoulder! Yep, I was in the pool because I thought it would be less stressful on my knee. I'd torn my ACL dancing on the grass at the farmer's market. I wasn't even dancing, not really, just swaying, when I heard a horrible, nasty, gristle-knuckle ligament-ripping sound and I went down like a sack of potatoes. It was so humiliating, knowing what a wild woman I had been on the dance floor in days gone by. I thought I'd broken my leg, though I couldn't fathom how. But it was the worst pain ever. I was sitting there, dazed, nauseated from the pain, terrified of vomiting in front of all the other people, thinking, "Is this worse than childbirth? I think it might be." Also, "How in the hell will I ever get up?"