Category Archives: #eatingissues

#chronicillness, #chronicpain, #eatingissues, #tired, Depression, Spoonie

crawling out of the vortex of suck…

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(or my steps for getting back into the world after falling into a medically induced depression.)

I’ve been struggling a lot with morale over the last month.

That’s an understatement. I’ve been wondering if being in this much pain all the time is something I’m going to be able to continue to do for as long as I have previously planned.

To make matters worse, I keep getting sicker, in newer and unexpected ways, as though my body wants to make sure I don’t get too comfortable with the degree of discomfort I am currently dealing with.

The latest issue, an out of the blue inability to eat coupled with stomach pain, weight loss, and constant fullness, was supposed to be an easy fix.
I was scheduled for an in and out surgery and told I would be better in a month. Instead I’m looking at confused medical faces and clear imaging. Another unique problem they need to send me to a specialist for.

In the meantime I’m unable to eat more than about 1/2 cup to 1 cup of food at a time. I struggle with a small protein shake or cup of soup. So I’m losing weight, low energy, and have no energy at all.

I’ve been in bed in my room for the better part of a month as I healed from the unnecessary surgery and grappled with this idea that I have to deal with yet another issue. I was getting down. Dark. Sad.

Then I realized I have to climb out of this damned vortex of suck and find a way to start living again or, simply put, I’m not going to make it through this.

So I started small. I started doing 2 or 3 sit ups with my husband before his workout, the old-school kind with him holding my ankles for me. Then I added planking for 10 seconds. I increased the amount of planking a little bit each day. I am now up to 25 seconds.

I ordered some vinyl wallpaper to decorate our room and made small changes to the walls, sometimes a few feet at a time. I did the wall behind our bed one day and it took 6 hours. I had to rest after. I attached each strip.

I walked back and forth in front of the house like someone who is looking for a lost object of great value.

I started picking up small things around the house, dog destroyed toys and torn up cardboard, sweatshirts that need putting away, etc.

I cooked a meal for myself instead of eating only smoothies.

I opened the windows in our bedroom and changed the sheets, made the bed, and vacuumed the rug. Then I lay on the bed covered in sweat and panting until I could sit up enough to take ibuprofen. Then I curled up under a heating pad. I overdid it. Too much too soon.

I rested a few more days.

I started doing more, cleaning things, showering, making small changes. I sat down to paint and realized my arms were tired after holding my brush up for a few minutes. I cried about that too, but then I lowered the easel and painted some more.

I fixed small, easy to fix problems around the house. Rehung artwork and photos. Folded and put away blankets, asked for help relocating small furniture.

I walked my dog, made myself sit on the porch in the sunlight. Finally went and saw friends.

In short, I forced myself to re-engage.

I’m still hurting. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. I still feel overwhelmed and tired and just like there is such a slog ahead of me.

I no longer wonder why I am doing it. I am feeling satisfaction in accomplishing small things. I am feeling better when I am not lying here with nothing to think about but pain.

I am slowly crawling out of the vortex of suck.

#chronicillness, #eatingissues, #spoonie, #spoonielife, #topomax, #topomaxsucks, Spoonie, spoonies

Uncomfort-food…

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I am a comfort food person. When I have the flu I want soup, when my heart is hurting I want rich, spicy, Indian food and when I have been struggling for a long time with pain or illness I want a treat. I have a strong relationship with food and feeling better.

Right now I am in a really big fight with food and I am finding myself uncomforted by its existence. Right now between the knotty intestines and the Topomax my usual treatment for not feeling well for a long period of time has turned into a looping internal monologue of disappointment and disillusionment.

“Man it’s been a long couple of weeks. I sure could use a scone and some tea to perk myself up.”
“Yep, except the scone would taste like shit and the tea would taste like shit and you’d just end up throwing them both up so why don’t you just skip the eating and drinking part and do something else?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”

It has sucked. I have had this looping conversation in my head dozens of times a day and the longer this goes on the more I have it!

Worse, one of the other coping mechanisms I have for feeling better is lighting incense or using a scent infuser but now everything smells awful so the only thing I can really do to bring myself a little peace is cleaning and while the end result is pleasant the task doesn’t really feel like pampering.

Maybe I need new books. Or a stasis device I can go into for the next 30 days.

#eatingissues, #fibromyalgia, #fibrowarrior, #intestinalblockage, #spoon, #spoonie, #spoonielife, #spoons, Chronic pain, spoonies, Spoons, Spoons

Clue x 4…

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I admit that sometimes I can be a little dense. It’s less an awareness thing and more an OCD classification/categorization thing. Also occasionally an overthinking thing.

For example; when I was in law school I went to see the gynecologist for a routine checkup and spent 15 minutes agonizing over the question on the intake form “Could you be pregnant? Yes or No?”
See, I was sexually active and while I did have an IUD there was statistically a .09% chance I could be pregnant, which is what I said to the receptionist at the front desk when I asked her advice as to how to best answer the question. She, of course, asked me if I was pregnant. I said “No.” She said “Circle the no.” You could hear her eyes roll all the way in Africa.

So I get that sometimes the way my mind works differs greatly from the way everyone else’s minds work, so it was no surprise to me that I only clued in to the fact that I am legitimately really quite sick yesterday while my whole family has been acutely aware of this fact for the past two weeks.

From their perspective I have been losing weight drastically, can’t eat more than 500 or 600 calories a day, have a hard time getting out of bed or leaving the house, and feel like I have the flu most of the time.

From my perspective, until yesterday, I only have a month to go until the doctor can actually fix what is wrong with me this time and therefore it’s not really that bad.

See for the past seven years every time I have gone to the doctor with a new or worsening symptom I have been given a new horrible medication and the explanation that my chronic illnesses are still kind of not well understood, lifelong, incurable, and will fuck me up forever so when I went in to see the doc about the fact that my intestines have wrapped around an adhesion in my abdomen left over from my hysterectomy and he said “No problem, we can remove that with surgery and you’ll be fine.” I was FREAKING CELEBRATING!!

I had a medical issue that could be fixed with relative ease in a relatively short amount of time with a really short recovery time!! This isn’t being sick! This is amazing!!

So that was my state of mind of the past two weeks as my family fretted over me and I hummed and buzzed about cheerfully not eating and being curled up in heated blankets and generally feeling yucky but knowing it was ACTUALLY TEMPORARY and WOULD END SOON and I WAS GOING TO IMPROVE!!

Then yesterday as my husband and I prepared for him to go back to work for the week I asked if we could spend fifteen minutes cleaning up so I could have a pleasant room to convalesce in.

Fifteen minutes.

I vacuumed. Moved a few items to the trash. Put my clothes in a hamper.

I broke into a heavy sweat and nearly passed out. I had to lie down.

That’s when I turned to my dearest love and said:
“Shit, I’m really sick aren’t I?”

To his eternal credit he wasn’t snarky at all when he responded. All he said as he sat next to me, took my hand, and held it was:
“Yes honey, you are. I’ve been fretting over you.”