I haven't posted in a few days...not much to say. I'm getting weaker and weaker.
Now, I am starting to be concerned. At first, delighted that I would not be able to have the extraction fusion in order to stabilize my broken neck...thankful I would not have to deal with six months of halo...I wrote that I would be accepting of that.
But being accepting of the impossibility of having the surgery does not mean the problem goes away. And it's hard to not be concerned when things get worse.
Does true faith mean that I stop being concerned?
Does it mean I would not be trying to find answers?
That I would not notice increasing disability?
Or would God want me to keep trying to find help?
Would He want me to keep an eye on things? Try to find answers?
It seems like really honest faith would mean I'd let it all go, and trust that God has an answer
somewhere down the line. And that this is the way it's all meant to go.
I thought I had faith. I thought I had gone through tough times often in my life, and faith had gotten me through, and that I had learned faith through those events.
But if faith means that I do not notice increasing weakness and neurological, spinal cord pain; if it means I go on as if nothing is happening or wrong; if it means I do not seek something from doctors and just go ahead with a life on pain medications and experiencing decline then I'm not doing a very good job of it.
I have glimpses of that kind of faith, but, mostly, the pain keeps me beaten down. I have that strong "thing" deep inside of me that knows God has a plan and that He is in control. Without that, I couldn't survive. But closer to the surface there is concern, wishing it were not so, and a seeking for professional help.
A few days ago, I went to our shopping town 35 miles away to be with my husband and do some errands. I went in the first store, the hardware type, and after walking through it once, I asked my husband for the keys to the truck, I needed to go rest. I had my CTO vest on and my walking stick.
Next, to the Ink place for some printer ink refills. I got out and did this quick chore, then we went next to Bi Mart, a little membership store that suffices for WalMart, which is not close to us. I walked through that store and lost track of my husband. I walked across the store with the basket, looking down each aisle for a glimpse of him. This meant that I had to turn my head back straight forward to watch where I was going...walk 8 ft and look to the side again...look back straight and walk 8 ft, look to the side. About 15 rows and no sight of him, so I walked back across the store doing the same thing, very slowly and carefully turning my head. How stupid of me.
Next to Home Depot, but I stayed in the truck. Then to have lunch at Burgerville. I felt painfully weak and confused. Having something to eat helped.
Then, we drove home and all the way home, how I suffered. Just 30 minutes of driving. Once again, by the time we got home, I could barely make it out of the truck and into the house. Once inside, I peeled off the CTO and fell into bed and slept 90 minutes.
This happens every time I go to the shopping town. We used to go twice a week and it was always fun for us to do. Now, I hate going. My husband had to go there yesterday and I declined his invitation to join him, though I wanted to do it.
The world is shrinking and even the little tiny world is so painful, every day, day after day...a "good day" might have an hour in it when the pain has subsided. The medication I take, a small dose, as neurological patients go, of 5 doses a day with 5 mg each of oxycodone...it isn't doing the job.
New symptoms evolve, old ones come back, existing ones intensify. No progress. Nothing to look at and say, "at least this is better," or "maybe this means I'm getting better!"
I'm thankfully happy in spirit with my life and my wonderful husband. In the midst of all this, I smile and laugh often.
Phone calls are so hard on me. I've written this before, but I just thought of something that adds into it. We have a small business or "paid hobby" and I get phone calls from prospective buyers. I must chat them up and if they make an order, it takes a lot of talking to get a custom order ironed out.
Then, if I need to talk to a vendor of some kind (this morning, it was Broderbund on the phone as I had downloaded - or tried to -- a Print Shop product and it doesn't work on my new computer which has Vista) and I get a nice, talkative gal on the line who wants to talk about her weather in Iowa and our weather out here and how she fell on the sidewalk over Christmas and how her mother is doing....
well, it all adds up! And I don't have the strength to visit with dear, loved ones like I want to. It doesn't seem right, but such is life. Not "right" sometimes. Right?
Well, this is one of those whining posts, but for me, it chronicles how things are going. Downhill.
It is what it is.