I have taken a long hiatus from putting my thoughts down.
The physical self has commanded all my attention. Unfortunately.
But I’ve survived the winter, which I had serious doubts about. I thought it would be my last though, seriously. The question being one of strength. Did I have the ability to rebound from the chronic pain and dark depression last Fall? Going into Winter in such bad shape? A time when the bitter cold and sunless skies do the most damage.
And here’s Spring, but I’m so damn battered and torn I question my desire to keep going. Winter took its toll, shortening my time on Earth I believe. Four times, about a week long each, I was curled up on the couch with nausea so bad I could think of nothing else besides praying it would stop. My kidney stones. which also contributed to the edema, both legs swelling up so badly they became infected from the pooled blood and fluids. Another short term dose of antibiotic added to the list.
Then losing most of my sight in one eye that came out of nowhere. Unexpected, unprepared. Emergency retinal surgery, a fancy name I will endeavor to find and include here.
Prognosis? Maybe 50% sight will return, the next 3 months a waiting game.
The cause? Bad luck, and age. Seriously, this from the surgeon’s mouth.
Recovery was pure hell. I had to stay face down for 2 weeks, keeping the gas bubble now in my eye in the right position for reattaching the retina. My neck, shoulders, and lower back are still recovering 5 weeks later.
My days are pretty routine, unproductive basically. I wake up when the wife or dogs come noisily encroaching my space…the couch in the living room.
Curled up in a deep sleep after finally giving in to the pain at 3:00 a.m. More often than not waking up in a sitting position.
I could have slept until noon, letting the effects of a night of morphine slip away. But it rarely happens as the world seems to demand my attention. So I face it in a haze for the first few hours.
Morning shower, maybe. If the night was really bad I’ll just stay in my sweats for the day, not planning to face anything or anyone. This happens more and more lately.
A handful of meds for breakfast, coffee and a yogurt to coat my stomach. First dose of morphine. Maybe an hour to work on the blog or emails or pay bills. Play with the dogs, if I can bend over without blacking out.
Then it’s time to walk the dogs, a major test of patience putting harnesses on two wild hounds. 5 minutes later, ready to go out and stretch legs, sniff every tree and stone, scratch the earth and burn some energy.
My gait is slowing, each step more painful than the last. I go only 2-3 blocks, knowing we have to return the same. I’m losing my ability to walk without pain. As the day goes from noon to afternoon to night the pain level follows suit. As well as the second dose of morphine.
After the dogs are fed I’m shot. That’s my day really, nothing much happening after, might catch an early supper or practice piano for an hour. More morphine.
In bed by 7:00, fighting restless legs and pain and frustration. The pain will escalate, and kicking burning legs need to be walked on to stop the fire, cramps and the kicking. This lasts until 3:00 or 4:00 in the morning, when exhaustion finally forces me to sleep through the pain.
My life. Every day is the same so far. Every day.