Introduction & Early Stages

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July 2002

Saturday, July 06, 2002

It seems like no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I can't hide pain. It just manifests itself into something I do or even something I say. Lately it's how I walk. So walking hurts. What can I do? Nothing. My knees and my hips hurt when I walk down the street, or when I stand on the subway. Not the end of the world. Sure I wish it weren't that way but the truth is I can't do much about it. I just want to get moving with my life and play the cards I was dealt. Eventually the pain will go away. I know I was sentenced to life in Federal arthritis prison, but there's time off for good behavior, right?

People ask what they can do for me. No sympathy. No judgments. Just an acknowledgement that I can't do certain things, and an understanding that I wish I could and don't only because it hurts too much. Sometimes this is all I ask.

I mean after all it's not like I'm braced-and-boarded here. I just walk slower than most people. I take more time getting in and out of cars than the rest. And I appreciate every step that I take more than the next guy. But then again he's too busy worrying about what he can do to help me instead of focusing on his own walking. So I'm left to pick him up when he trips.

Sunday, July 07, 2002

Technically it's Sunday, though most of New England won't realize it for another 6 to 8 hours. I'm wide awake, all alone, and not in the least bit surprised.

Here I sit, looking up at the ceiling while I type, wondering when I get to go on vacation from all of this crap. When I get to walk away from what is inside of me and just lay down on the beach and relax. The most expensive beds and the fanciest pillows won't help me sleep this pain away. Even if they helped I'd still need something to get me through a day. It's a constant ache and pain that keeps throbbing even when I try to rest.

Instead, I'm just fed up and really tired of all of this. Not to mention just plain really tired, of course unable to sleep. What am I supposed to do? I type a diary in vain, though I know that many people read and appreciate it. Still, that doesn't help my pain. I get the emails, and adore the care that people have in their hearts to send a "thinking of you" note - and boy do I get a lot of them. But again, does this help? No. I am still left here, upset, sweating, crying, whatever, late at night and all alone.

It's all crap and I'm fed up with it. I swear a one-way ticket to Hawaii would hit the spot. Walk away from everything. My life, my pain, my problems. Just me and the old cast from the "Real World Hawaii". Maybe I could get a job as a radio DJ in Hawaii. "Surf-FM" or something. That would be fun. Wear a shirt but never button it. Wear sandals but never worry about the pain they cause. Walk down the beach at sunset and not have to deal with what I've got on my plate right now. Just take a vacation from my pain.

Damnit I so deserve it it's not even funny. I get so worked up at the thought of why this happens to me, what it is that's all of a sudden making me so miserable, and it tears me up inside. I sit on the floor and type this and I cringe at the thought of having to get up and return to bed. Why? Because it will hurt so much. What is this? Where am I? Why is this happening?

And then I begin to cry. Again. It's time to get back into bed but I don't want to. I can't. I won't.

Wednesday, July 17, 2002

It's amazing how an old feeling or an old emotion can return at the blink of an eye or turn of the corner. Lately that's been happening to me. In the past few weeks I have been put in a place where I want to return to the way I felt some time ago. I want to go back to where I used to be when I was happy, when I was healthy. Little things remind me of that. The old routine of my annual physical. Hearing an old Dire Straits song I haven't heard in months. These things return me to a place and a time when problems were less severe, when life had far fewer issues to contend with. When I smiled a whole lot more often.

But it could be because slowly I'm starting to feel better. It's amazing what medicine can do for you. Walking without pain. Sitting without discomfort. Who knew this stuff would be out there!? And with the return of physical balance comes a longing to return to a normal life not run by how one limps or waddles, but how one feels inside.

A normal life when the people that surround you care about you and want to see you healthy. Realizing the importance of the family and friends that you love, and the time you cherish with them - though it seems like you only appreciate time spent together when it's after-the-fact. It's difficult to look back and realize mistakes made or problems caused by a blind eye to feelings, emotions, or whatever you want to call it. Considering the trials and travails of life today, I am slowly beginning to appreciate health, happiness and love on a newer, better level. That is what feeling better has meant to me.

Special people in your life ought to remain special forever, just like the times you spend feeling "normal" or healthy. Being able to return to times when pain or discomfort isn't the first thing on your mind is a great place to be. The key is to appreciate special people, and the time spent healthy, while it happens. Or in some cases, every moment spent together. Some call it "living in the moment". It's the best way to protect yourself and the people closest to your heart.

Having tasted the sour long enough I am finally ready to taste - and enjoy - the truly sweet.

Tuesday, July 23, 2002

At the end of every day I've had it. Too much pressure to handle - physically and mentally. All I want to do is fall onto my nice soft couch and not move. Hook up the feeding tube and a breathing apparatus and just let the machines do all the work for me. It's gotten to the point in my life where I am at my wits end.

OK so a self-induced coma probably isn't the best way to solve life's hardships. Maybe a good massage would work. It would be so amazing to come home to a nice massage. Worth doing if you have the money. I suppose I could become a big movie executive, lounge around my mansion wearing a blue velvet bathrobe drinking sangria, and have a personal masseuse at my beck and call. That would help.

Or I can just take a nice long shower. Get out of the heat (which slows everyone down by at least half) and take the one medicine my HMO would never reimburse: the one and only "chill pill."