A Change of Pace for Today’s Blog Entry! Enjoy!
Dear Mother and Father:
Since I left for college I have been remiss in writing and I am sorry for my thoughtlessness in not having written before. I will bring you up to date now, but before you read on, please sit down. You are not to read any further unless you are sitting down, okay?
Well, then, I am getting along pretty well now. The skull fracture and the concussion I got when I jumped out of the window of my dormitory when it caught fire shortly after my arrival here is pretty well healed now. I only spent two weeks in the hospital and now I can see almost normally and only get those sick headaches once a day. Fortunately, the fire in the dormitory and my jump, was witnessed by an attendant at the gas station near the dorm, and he was the one who called the Fire department and the ambulance. He also visited me in the hospital and since I had nowhere to live because of the burnt out dormitory, he was kind enough to invite me to share his apartment with him. It’s really a basement apartment, but it’s kind of cute. He is a very fine boy and we have fallen deeply in love and are planning to get married. We haven’t got the exact date yet, but it will be before my pregnancy begins to show.
Yes, Mother and Father, I am pregnant. I know how much you are looking forward to being grandparents and I know you will welcome the baby and give it the same love and devotion and tender care as you gave me when I was a child. The reason for the delay in our marriage is that my boyfriend has a minor infection which prevents us from passing our pre-marital blood tests and I carelessly caught it from him.
Now that i have brought you up to date, I want to tell you that there was no dormitory fire, I did not have a concussion or a skull fracture, I was not in the hospital, I am not pregnant, I am not engaged,I am not infected and there is no boyfriend. However, I am getting a “D” in American History and an “F” in chemistry and I want you to see those marks in their proper perspective.
Your Loving Daughter
(Sharon may be failing chemistry but she gets an A in psychology)
A True Story
Have anyone of you eve been to New York City? I mean NYC in August on one of those hot and humid days, where you can smell the city, where it’s hard to breath, where the smoke seems to rise from the streets and where it is almost impossible to feel comfortable due to the perspiration dripping down from your face on to your clothes.. Well this is a true story that occurred on one of those days at about 4:00PM just as rush hour was starting to happen. The setting is the IRT (a subway line), with broken air conditioning and the first group of workers heading home after a sweltering day of work at their desks in the thousands of similar office buildings that make up downtown Manhattan.
As it was still the beginning of rush hour, there were a few seats left in the subway car. The train stopped at a station and a man entered with his 3 children, aged 5, 7 and 10 years old. Each of the children had a can of Coca Cola in one hand and an ice cream bar in the other hand.The father found a seat, the train began to move and this was the signal for the children to start acting like children. the children began to run up the aisle of the train, they grabbed the bars (people who stand hold on to) and swung themselves around and around while their soda went flying. each time the train would lurch, one or more of the children would lose their balance and fall on one of the other passengers laps, sticky fingers and all. All the while, the father, sitting his his seat, just looked down at his feet.
If you know anything about NY’ers, they were becoming very angry at the children and the father, the hot and humid weather was no help for their moods. They began grumbling under their breath about how the father was not watching the kids, how the kids could get hurt and more importantly how one of the children could hurt one of the passengers as they lost their balance. The father did not seem to notice anything amiss which just angered the passengers that much more.
Would you not agree with me that the father is being very irresponsible overall? Would you agree that all the passengers had every reason to be angry and that something sooner or later had to occur? I certainly would be furious with the situation, and I’m sure that you would be too!
This scenario continued as the train kept moving, yet there was an older woman who watched the situation closely and saw something different, something that no others on the train were able to see. Being an elderly woman, she carefully stood up, as the train moved, walked across the aisle to the man and asked: Sir, is everything alright, are you alright? The father of the children did not say a word, just continued to look down. The elderly woman than asked: Sir, is there anything I can do to help you?
The father of the children looked up into the elderly woman’s eyes and said: My children and I are headed home and returning from the hospital. My wife of 15 years has just died from Breast Cancer and I don’t know, for the life of me, how I’m going to tell my kids that their mother is never coming home again.
What you’ve just experienced is called a Paradigm shift! A dramatic change in your thinking that would have seemed impossible before. W can all experience a paradigm shift in the way we look at our health.
Stuck at the Fair
(Posted on another fibro site and used with permission)
Living with these illnesses can be like being stuck at a bad fair. We want to get off of the wild rides, and we are tired of playing the games. The smell of the food makes us sick, and the music hurts our ears. We want to get out, but we can’t find the exit and get trampled by the crowds.
The ups and downs of the severity of our symptoms is a roller coaster. We are strapped in our seats and we just want to get off the ride. Days turn into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years, yet we never get used to the ride and still want off.
Trying to judge our limits is like trying to hit a moving target in one of those fair games. We keep playing and thinking we surely have it this time, only to find out that we overdid it again, and missed the mark. Symptoms change frequently and it may feel like we are constantly playing a game of Whack-a-Mole. Every time we get one symptom under control, another one or two pop up.
Suddenly we find ourselves in the House of Mirrors, lost in fibro fog. It is hard to find our way out and everything seems distorted.
We may get stuck on the Tilt-a-Whirl, spinning around and around. But the dizziness doesn’t subside after we get off. Minutes go by and still the world is spinning. For those of us with orthostatic intolerance, it may feel like we live on the Tilt-a-Whirl.
Somehow we end up in the side show acts and find ourselves lying on a beds of nails, only it really is as painful as it looks. And we find ourselves with swords down our throats, which are already sore and raw. The pain pierces through us. Maybe we find ourselves the unwilling assistant to the magician who puts us in a box and puts swords through it. Unfortunately, we feel each blade as it painfully penetrates us.
It is like we are trapped on the Ferris wheel and every time it goes to the bottom, we think we may finally get off. Instead it keeps going, like the many hopes that we may finally get better…finally find a treatment that works…finally get to live our lives.
Do you have a metaphor that you like to use for your illness or symptoms?
Monday’s Blog: You are what you eat Part 1