Since starting this blog, I have discovered there are a whole load of people out there suffering with chronic pain - many, many more than I had ever imagined and from all walks of life. My technophobia is such that I am slowly finding my way around the bloggersphere (painfully so is probably a better description - no pun intended); I find blogs that are really interesting, but can't find anywhere to follow, or I think "Oh, that would be a good link", but I haven't worked out how to go about linking it to my blog (either in netiquette or physically), still, give me time...
The one thing that strikes me most though, is how everyone seems so much worse than me. Last week, this bloody thing called CRP was dominating my life. "Oh, woe is me", was the internal and silent thought. "This is the absolute pits - my life is virtually over". Dramatic? You betcha. I had visions of my whole house being transformed into some sort of "mobility showroom" - rails, hoists, built up toilet seats, ramps, paved-over garden - you name it - I planned it. And then I read about others who had many, many more things to deal with. Stuff that made my problems look like a dance with Snow White. It was like having a bucket of cold water (read reality) tipped over my head to bring everything back into perspective. For it is so easy to get wrapped up and swept along on a tide of misery and self-pity and, if I am being brutally honest with myself here, that is exactly what was happening to me. So what, you struggle to get in and out of the car? At least you're not housebound- you can get out and breath in fresh air. So what, you double up in pain when you bend down to pick up your daughter's toys that are left lying on the floor, for what seems the hundredth time that day? At least you have a beautiful daughter who brings you more pleasure when she sings you her latest song, than the ability to get something off the bottom shelf at the supermarket without yelping can ever do.
I know I should be thankful. And I am thankful. But I know I should be more thankful. Sometimes it is very hard to see the wood for the trees. The negative thoughts always seem to be stronger than the positive ones and although I know in my heart that is because I allow them to be, by a perverse twist of human nature, I allow them to be stronger simply because it is easier to do so. I look around and every day I see that to make people cry seems to be a whole lot easier than making them laugh. I try to make myself look at things from a different point of view. People say to me: "why do you make a joke of everything? Why don't you treat things seriously?" Well, I do treat things seriously - my humour is my defence mechanism, it is helps me to deal with things both good and bad - and you know what? I think there is more than enough misery in this world without me adding to it. I just need to get a little more perspective....
TODAY'S LEMON RATING: A medium sized 5 out of 10 (aided by the sun coming out)
Hello there,
ReplyDeleteInteresting blog, a few years ago I managed to herniate 3 vertibrae in my back and crushed all the nerves that fed to my jaw, neck, arms and chest. I though I was going to die when the first time the pain came on, after a while I was diagnosed and had 18 months of physio. This was set back when I was rear ended coming off the motorway one night. I became very familiar with voltarol and other pain killers.
I had a great little Kiwi physio who depite her size used to beat the crap out of me to mobilise my spine and with plenty of daily exercises I got over it and I am mostly back to normal.
Good luck with it all
Phiangle.
Thank you. This is just what I am trying to say: that there are many people out there who have suffered/are suffering so much more than me. It is very heartening to hear that you are well on the way to recovery despite the setback of the crash (ouch). Physios tell me that things may improve, but to hear it from someone who has been there, done that (& presumably got the Tshirt) is very encouraging. Thanks again and I wish you well x
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