Because It’s Pi Day

Happy Pi Day!

For the second day of InkTober last year, I drew a pie to match the prompt for that day, which was the word ‘divided’. I didn’t like the way my drawing turned out. I can’t remember why but I rushed to draw and post my entry for that day – imagine that, only the second day of the challenge and I was anxious about possibly falling behind. I was unhappy with the result because although I’m not at the level of artistic accomplishment I’d like to be yet, I knew I could have done a better job. So, of course, I redrew the picture.

I like the second attempt better. The interesting thing is that it didn’t take much more time to finish it than I had invested in the first drawing. I’m guessing that because I was much calmer when I tried drawing it the second time, I was thinking more clearly, which translated into using the skills I’m learning more effectively.

I think today is the perfect day to share this. I may have mentioned at some point that I’m a geek  🤓

 

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Tropical Test Trip

Last winter, I took a two-weeklong trip to a tropical island with beautiful sandy beaches where I bathed in saltwater and sun the entire time. That’s exactly where I’d prefer to be now when the weather forecast is -1 C (30 F) and the temperature is expected to drop further; and it’s snowing today.

My destination was a tropical island because my dad built a retirement home and permanently moved there about three years ago. None of my family was thrilled about him making the move, but it was something he had dreamt of for a long time and, besides, it’s not bad knowing you have a place to stay if you feel the need to spend some relaxed time in the sun and blue-green waters of beautiful beaches. That was my intention after my abdominal surgery three years ago. Unfortunately, my pain and the intense fear of being so far away from my doctors and a hospital Emergency Room where my medical history is easily accessible if I need help to cope with an unexpected pain flare up, kept me grounded within the walls of my small home.

Last year, in spite of the pain, I felt determined to take my first trip out of the country since becoming ill. I call it my “test trip” because I was getting on a plane for the first time in four years and leaving the country for an extended period. It took the better part of two weeks to get organized and get everything I needed to take with me into a single suitcase. Whether it was the stress of taking the trip or trying to figure out all I needed to pack – or not – to take on the trip, I felt overwhelmed, anxious and frazzled until the moment I was sitting in my seat on the airplane.

I was anxious and worried about everything. I worried about how I would walk the long distance from the check-in desk to the gate to board my plane. I worried that once the plane took off that its vibrations, much like the vibrations as I travel in other vehicles, would cause my pain to increase while I traveled the thousands of miles to and from my destination. I worried that the cabin pressure might have unpredictable effects on my nervous system and overstimulate my nerves. I worried about how I would cope, if any or all of these things affected me, causing me to have a pain flare up so far away from home and from my doctors.

Thankfully, all of that worry and anxiety was for naught. After I booked my flight, I called the airline to ask about possible accommodations for anyone with needs similar to mine. Because I made that call, when I arrived at the airport check-in desk, they ordered a wheelchair for me so I didn’t have to walk the long distance to the departure gate. My friend I traveled with didn’t even have to wheel me to the gate, that was done by airline and airport staff to make sure I got there without any issues. When it was time to board the plane the airline staff pushed the wheelchair down the ramp to the door of the plane. When I found my seat, I buckled myself in and nervously waited for take-off because even when I was healthy feeling the pressure of the plane’s take-off was always the worst part for me.

The 4.5-hour flight was uneventful. I didn’t experience any unusual spikes in my pain and I even dozed off a few times as we flew above the clouds somewhere between 9,144 m and 12,192 m (30,000 ft. and 40,000 ft.). Shortly after the plane landed then stopped at the gate at the airport in our tropical destination and the other passengers deplaned, there was someone waiting to wheel me from the plane’s door. She wheeled me through Customs then to the baggage carousel, and finally to the Arrivals’ Exit where my dad – who now lives in that tropical paradise – would pick us up. That’s when my nerves finally calmed enough for me to connect with the reality that taking a trip didn’t have to be a frightening experience for me because of my illness.

Thus began a glorious two-week vacation. Actually, by no stretch of the imagination was that enough time to benefit from the warmth and the relaxing pace at which life moves there. Even on the days when we had rain it was better than being in the midst of this cold, gloomy concrete city. During those mornings, lying in bed hearing large raindrops hitting the windows and roof was calming and soothing; and even though it meant delaying plans on those days, when the sun came out from behind the heavy dark clouds it was as if it had never rained.

We didn’t do lots of sightseeing because I knew my body couldn’t handle it and I wanted to enjoy my time away as much as possible. However, we went on a few daytrips with my dad, which gave us a chance to see more of the island. On other days, we spent hours on the local beaches not too far from my dad’s home – one of which was within walking distance. We swam in waves of saltwater and felt soft sand between our toes as we stood on those beaches looking at blue as far as our eyes could see. We ate fresh-caught fish and locally grown fruits and vegetables; and I tried not to let my pain cloud the experience as the warm temperatures and sunlight enveloped my body.

My “test trip” was a success. I made it out of the country on my first attempt. Although, getting out took great effort, caused a great deal of stress, and some added pain. When it was time for me to return home, I was sad. I knew I’d see my dad within a few months when he traveled to our city for a short visit, but I was already missing him and the island. I was already missing the distance the trip had put between me and daily life that is so highly focused on coping with pain. I was already missing the carefree feeling that being thousands of miles away from home brings.

Yet, even with that sadness, I felt something else. I felt a sense of accomplishment. Because of that trip, I discovered that in spite of my illness I can still do one of the things I loved doing so much of in the past. I now know that even with this constant pain, I can still travel and I can find enjoyment in it.

 

Painful Pins and Needles

I haven’t had a lot of luck finding someone who can help me clean my home and do my laundry on a regular basis since becoming ill. The last person I hired was wonderful. Unfortunately, for me, housecleaning was only extra part-time work she did to make ends meet. Fortunately, for her, she was able to find full-time work with enough hours and compensation that meets her financial needs. Her now full-time employment means that she doesn’t have the extra time – and I’m certain not the extra energy – to clean homes anymore.

Since losing her help, I haven’t been able to find someone or a service that will include laundry as part of housecleaning without charging an arm and a leg. So, I’ve returned to doing both tasks on my own when I have the energy and not too much pain, which means things aren’t always as tidy as I like them to be. This past weekend, I had to do laundry because my dirty towels and bed linens were starting to pile up. All the activity and energy I needed to get them clean caused a pain flare up and triggered a symptom I haven’t had for a long while: my feet and ankles are swollen.

The usual warning sign of feeling pins and needles prickling from my toes and up my legs all the way to my hips preceded this pain flare up. Feeling pins and needles always causes an extremely high level of anxiety in me because I know it’s what happens right before the level of my pain starts to climb; and once the pain starts to climb I have no control over how intense or painful or for how long the flare up will last. All I can do is hope that it won’t be so terrible that I’ll have to go to the hospital emergency room for help to cope and get some relief.

On the other hand, I don’t get any warning sign(s) before my feet and ankles swell. It just happens and it adds to the pain in my feet and ankles because they become tender to the touch. I never know how swollen they will become: at times, I’ve been unable to wear certain shoes or boots because my feet seem to grow a size. I never know how long the swelling will last: this is the third day so far and sometimes they’ve stayed swollen for weeks.

Furthermore, after all this time, my Pain Specialists don’t know the reason(s) behind the swelling. At one point, they believed they increased the dose of one specific medication I was taking (Gabapentin/Neurontin) too high. This made sense because one of its known side effects is swelling of the hands/ankles/feet. However, last year, when my Pain Specialist decreased the dose then eventually removed Gabapentin from my treatment the swelling didn’t immediately go away. Some months later, it did stop, and it stayed away since about the middle of last summer. Why it came back a few days ago, I’m not sure.

So, once more my legs feel as if they are on fire as the pain builds and they swell. I’m doing my best to keep my legs elevated because I hope it will help to reduce the swelling – even if it’s only a little bit – and staying off my feet can help me cope with the pain flare up. I’m also sticking closely to my medication schedule by taking them as soon as my alarms go off because I want to maintain a steady level of pain medication(s) in my system.

If things become unbearable, I’ll make my way to the hospital emergency room.

There’s not much more I can do…