Diggin’ It

diggin itThis is no time for excuses, I think to myself.  I’m back from surgery for a hernia repair, one of many.  This was a particularly difficult one since it was repairing a repair of a hernia.  I landed up with a swelling, called a seroma, that was the size of a football.  I’m still walking around with a post surgical tube hanging out of my stomach.  At the end of the tube is a small ball that collects post surgical fluid and blood.  I have to empty it out every night and jot down how much was collected.  This will determine when I will be finally rid of this pain in the ass, or should I say stomach.

The reason I’m complaining about excuses is that it’s so easy for me to fall into a lethargic stupor when I come up with a viable excuse to not do anything.  It’s so easy to fill my days with languid perusal of magazines or online sites that have no relevance to my real life.  It’s easy and it’s fun.  I do manage to fix supper every night, albeit late many nights.

Today, I told myself, “this is no time for excuses.”  I am hard talking myself and slapping myself around in order to snap out of my wanna be state of “oh well”.  Like Scarlett O’Hara saying, “Tomorrow is another day.

It worked!  I went out into my back yard and looked at my abandoned koi pond project begun before my surgery.  I decided to work on it, much to the dismay of my husband.  After all, I’m still running around with a tube dangling from my stomach and a whole line of stitches that runs from my waist nearly all the way to my belly button.

Then I took a fall out by the pond.  I landed up half in and half out of the pond.  I found myself laying back and laughing because the pond was full of muddy water from several days of rain.  I was laying in muddy water.

One half of my body argued with the other half of my body.  The one half that was practical and husband-like told me,

“You have no business out here in the first place.  What are you trying to do; cause yourself another injury?  Get inside and clean up.  If you have to do something, do it inside the house where you are safe.”

The other half of my body argued back.

“Feel the mud!  I feel like a kid making a big mud pie.  I’m not hurt so what’s the harm?  Feel how squishy the mud is between my toes?  I lost my sandal somewhere in the water.  It’s not that deep anyway.  It’s probably easier to dig up the dirt anyway even if the water weighs it down.  I can’t tell what I’m digging because I can’t see it, but I can feel it with my feet.  This is so much fun!”

After a couple of hours of “fun”, the other half of me finally won out.  So both sides were now in agreement again.  I dragged my muddy body with my shovel out of the hole and turned around to see what I had accomplished.  I laughed when I saw that one couldn’t tell because of the water in the pond.  But I knew, and with that sense of knowing, I felt proud that I did it even if my body did complain later on and into tomorrow over my aches and pains.

Multiple Sclerosis aside, this was as close to normal as I have felt in quite some time.  I was stubborn, and determined to do what others might think I shouldn’t do.  The world does not revolve around them, it revolved around me today.




Misery loves company?

Multiple Sclerosis, like so many other debilitating diseases that plunder your life with no end in sight, is a disease that wreaks havoc on your life.  My life with MS has taken control for the past several months to a point that I’ve been unable to do much, including writing.

For some, writing might be a release of sorts, but for me, who is trying to relay a message of hope and laughter in the face of unquestionable progression into an even more profound state of disability; it has made me unable to type such positive messages.

The difficulties that have beleaguered my life have nothing to do with MS.  Unfortunately, however; we all know that any traumatic events in our lives will set us back.

I love writing.  I love composing music.  I’ve been unable to do either one.   My pianos sit quietly waiting for me, all the while collecting dust.  I won’t let anyone touch them to clean them because I simply don’t want anyone touching my instruments.  They mean too much to me.

I pass the dusty pianos many times a day.  I look at them feeling guilty, however; the pianos aren’t judging me.  They sit there quietly waiting for their lover’s touch.

Writing?   I have done everything else at my computer except write a decent piece of work.  I’ve played games, done day trading, gone on Facebook only to log off immediately, and so forth.  I’ve spent a lot of time watching You Tube videos.  They help pass the time.  Don’t even get me started on why I don’t watch television to pass the time.

I feel as though I’m watching myself from outside of myself.  The one me, looks at me incredulously and mouths, “Why don’t you practice what you preach and pull yourself out of this?”  The other me, looks at me and thinks, what a mess!  She needs to get her hair and nails done and then she would feel better!  Hmpf!  Then there is the real me, a combination of all; the cheerleader, the vain, and the artistic one. This me knows that I still have some huge hurdles to get through still.  I need to prepare myself for them by sheer will power.

I need to do this on my own.  It is what I’m accustomed to and what I prefer.  I find resources along the way to help me.  What I hate is this.  People who love me want to help me.  They think that if I lean on them that somehow, they will be able to alleviate the things I feel.  It doesn’t work that way with me.  They don’t seem to understand, although they should by now, my methods of dealing with pain, be it emotional or physical.  It’s a private ordeal that I go through and no amount of “talking about it” to anyone; regardless of how close they are, will alleviate or ease anything.  It’s presumptuous of them to think that they can do anything about it at all.

I understand that what I’ve just written is rather cruel.  I would think that by now those that love me, already know that I am like a person who has just stubbed their toe.  I don’t want someone running over and touching me and saying, “Are you okay?  Can I help?  Where does it hurt?”  You know how it is?  You want to slap their hands away and let the pain ease off on its own before you can even begin to speak or interact with someone.

All of this doesn’t sound like me.  Does it?  It does, if you knew the painful young life I led, but that’s for another book.



Misery in your world does not love company.  Misery is a private issue for you and it hurts like hell to write it down on paper for all the world to see.  But you’ve done it!  I’m proud of you.

Emotional Misery: 

There are some people in your life who think you besiege yourself with living in past and just keep harping on it.  To some point, this is true but only with the people who are a part of that story.  A resolution that satisfies you must be settled and until it is, you will continue to take the steps needed to resolve some issues.  You will not allow people to ride around on their mighty self-righteous horses stomping you down into the ground.  You continue to stand in the way of their steeds until they are ready to life you up on the horse with them, as is your due.

I caution you.  You know that saying about bringing horses to water but you can’t make them drink.  This might be the case for you.  I know.  This is the crux of your misery.  It is up to you to decide when these people are no longer a viable part of your present life.  You have to let them go.  You can’t force people who are convinced they are right, that they are wrong.  They are unyielding to you.  Why do you yield to them and give them this power over you to make yourself miserable?  Think about it.

Physical Miseries: 

You know that you have this uncanny ability to spring back from physical injury.  You’ve had several surgeries already and its only April.  Now you see another huge one looming ahead.  Face it!  You’re afraid of this one.  You think that you’re not strong enough to get through it because you are already so weakened by various hospital stays this year, right?  This is true.  You may die?  This is true.  You may die anyway from some other ridiculous thing that comes your way even prior to surgery, right?  We all die.  In the face of reality, if you can accept the reality of what may or may not happen, it’s no longer something to fret about.  Take it step by step and prepare for either case.  You get through it or you don’t. 

There are things to be done if you don’t.  Do them.  Remember your “5-minutes At A Time Philosophy”?

Practice it.  You’ve let the ball drop in your panic.