Not having a good day so far. My plantar fasciitis is acting up bad. For those unfamiliar with the condition, it is an extremely painful condition that affects the arch and inside heel of the foot. I’ve been staying off my feet, but it still throbs so painfully I ended up taking an opiate last night. I’ve been icing it and trying to do all the stuff you are supposed to do during a flare up, but this is definitely the worst it has been in a while.
Unfortunately, staying off my feet also means that I am either sitting or lying around all day, which is not good for my neck/back issues. When I do have to get up, I limp around carefully. I have also been taking NSAIDS and muscle relaxers, but don’t think they do much of anything.
Do any of you suffer from plantar fasciitis? If so, I feel for you. This condition sucks!
My baby kitty Spyder is dying. I’m pretty sure of it now. We’ve ruled out pretty much everything but cancer or autoimmune disease, with cancer looking most likely. He hasn’t eaten for 3 days now and is getting weaker and weaker. We’ve tried everything we know. Spent well over $1,000 to try to get him well in the past month.
He is around 14 years old, so at least he has lived a good length of life for a cat, but my heart is breaking. About 3 days ago it is almost as if he suddenly decided it was time to prepare to die. Since then, he has refused to eat, wants to hide away and sleep, and gets weaker every day. He does not seem to be in pain, except when he has to go to the bathroom and try to get stool out. Luckily, that isn’t happening often as he has very little to expel.
Our only other options at this point would be a feeding tube, and if he does indeed have cancer, I don’t want to just prolong his suffering and death. I know we couldn’t afford all the treatment that would require, nor would I want to put him through all that. Spyder is a quiet, shy cat and I know he would rather go at home quietly. He is one of the sweetest cats I have ever known. Knowing him has been an honor.
Spyder got his name from a dream of mine. Right before he showed up in our lives, I had a dream that I had a baby of my own and named it Spyder for some reason. So, when we got this kitty soon after, I figured it was fate and gave him the name from my dream. He indeed became my baby. The kitty that I was closest to. The one who pulled my heartstrings hardest for some reason. I am hurting.
The past few days have not been the greatest. I’ve been both super anxious and fairly depressed. I guess it is probably what most people would call a mixed state in the bipolar community. I feel on edge all the time. My brain is constantly telling me something is wrong and that I need to fix it, but I don’t know what it is. The depression is telling me that I am worthless, no one really likes me anyway, and everything I do is pointless.
The depression is making me feel never good enough. It is times like these that no matter what I achieved, I would probably still feel a failure. If I suddenly won the Pulitzer Prize in poetry or had my art showcased at the Louvre, I would still find fault with it and myself in this particular mood. It is a hellish feeling.
This depression is interlaced with anxiety that pushes me to want to achieve, achieve, achieve right now, but in this state I am so all over the place that it is hard to concentrate on anything for long. Not to mention that the depression makes me feel like it is all futile anyhow, even as my whirling mind is telling me that I’m not trying hard enough.
All of this is heightening my chronic pain. I hurt so bad deep in my muscles, I feel like I have been tortured on the medieval rack.
Well, my back is no better after 5 days, so I ended up visiting the ER last night. They gave me a steroid shot and 2 trigger point injections. It was the first time I’ve had trigger point injections and they hurt like hell! Luckily, the pain is brief, but I couldn’t help yelling out a bit in pain and squeezing my husband’s hand like a stress ball during the procedure.
Unfortunately, the shots didn’t seem to work. I’m not any better than I was before going to the ER. That makes me think that it is probably my spine causing the issue – either my degenerative disc disease or my bulging discs. At the ER doc’s suggestion, I also bought a TENS unit and have tried it out a couple times. I’m not sure it is helping either, but I figure at this point I’ll try anything.
I’m so very tired of this constant pain. This is enough to drive a person crazy.
Sorry I haven’t written in a few days. I threw my back/neck out again and it has been bad. Probably the worst it has ever been. I have been constantly downing pain killers and muscle relaxers and still no change. Usually the worst only lasts a day or two during these flareups, but now I’m on day 3 and it still hurts to move in any direction.
Naturally, this has me rather depressed too. I had appointments and fun plans this weekend that I had to cancel due to the pain. I feel like it doesn’t matter how hard I try to be social or how much I try to take good care of myself, my efforts always end up jinxed.
This is why I normally end up isolating myself, because I feel like all my health issues make me unreliable. It feels like no matter how understanding other people are, when I have to call off at the last minute several times, they start to get frustrated (and understandably so).
It is strange how negative words can stay with us for a lifetime and hurt long after they are spoken. Today, I was reminded of a conversation I had way back in middle school. My friends and I were having a conversation about birth order statistics and how the oldest is often the smartest and most responsible in the family – which apparently was the case in all their families.
I mentioned how that hadn’t really happened in my family as I was the youngest and yet I was the one in the gifted program, the one who got straight A’s, and the one who was least likely to break the rules. My sister was very smart in her own ways, but not overly academic or intellectual.
One of my friends (or more likely a frenemy) replied, “Well, maybe your sister is the pretty one then.”
Before I could digest this insult or respond, one of my other friends chimed in assuring the group that my sister was no looker either, which made everyone laugh. I didn’t let on that I felt anything, but inside I was crushed. I felt ugly and I also felt bad that my friends had insulted and made fun of my sister.
To this day, remembering this conversation makes me feel ugly, plain, and rejected. I wish my friends had been more careful with their words.
While I was painting this acrylic picture last night, trying to capture the burgeoning depression I could feel weighing on me, the REM song Shiny Happy People came on the satellite channel I was listening to. I felt that song perfectly captured how I was feeling, as I always felt it was a rather tongue-in-cheek, mockery of a song. I decided to name the artwork after the song, so here is my version of Shiny Happy People:
That headline isn’t exaggerating. I had a horrible dental cleaning experience yesterday. Now to be fair, my teeth are extremely sensitive, just like everything else on my body (thanks autism), so cleanings are never fun for me anyhow. There are always at least a few painful nerves hit during the process.
However, yesterday the lady who regularly cleans my teeth was on maternity leave so I had a new lady who was incredibly slow, annoying, and seemed to manage to hit about every nerve on every tooth, at least on the front ones. I can’t recall the number of times I flinched from the pain. At least a couple times I teared up. I was starting to wish I was having a filling instead, because at least then I would be numbed up some.
I feel bad calling the lady annoying, but to be frankly honest, she was. She was one of those people who just talks and talks and talks, which drives me crazy. It was especially hard not to be annoyed when I was already having a bad experience. A few minutes into the cleaning I was tempted to get up and say “I’m sorry, but I just can’t do this today”, and reschedule for when my normal person gets back. I managed to tough it out though. Glad it is over and my regular cleaner should be back before my next cleaning!
I’ve been feeling rather sad and isolated the last few days. I think a lot of it comes from the stress of dealing with chronic illness and chronic pain. Anyone who has chronic illness is probably familiar with spoon theory, an illustrative way to describe why you have to choose carefully how to use your energy to do things when you have very limited physical ability.
In other words, sometimes you have to choose whether you would like to go out and socialize for a short period of time, spend that energy getting some much-needed housework done, work on a hobby or personal interest, or even simply take a shower…because you just don’t have the energy and the physical ability to do them all within the same day like a healthy person could.
Most of the time I end up choosing to spend my “energy” and limited abilities to either spend time with my husband, work on my art/writing/blogging, or take care of personal hygiene or light housework. Prioritizing these things leaves no extra energy or time to socialize on a wider scale or do much outside of the house, other than maybe occasionally going out for dinner or doing a little necessary shopping. Even the thought of going to a movie is often too exhausting to contemplate.
All of this makes me sad, especially when I remember how I used to enjoy so many other things I can’t do any longer. I used to love hiking, playing tennis, roller skating, bowling, dancing, working, swimming, being a foster parent, and going out to various activities with people I know or share interests with. I’ve pretty much lost all of that for good. And that is depressing.