When You Experience a Setback (Blog #666)

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Tonight’s blog is number 666, The Mark of the Beast, and this morning I woke up feeling like The Beast had come to visit me in the night. That is, I woke up with sinus junk, the beginnings of–dare I say it?–a sinus infection. Whatever it is, I’ve felt crummy all day. Not absolutely miserable, but crummy–low energy, overwhelmed. That’s one of the ways I know something is off in my body, even the simplest of tasks seems too difficult to handle. Before breakfast a friend of mine came by to show me how to make kefir (a fermented dairy beverage teeming with probiotics), and when I didn’t have the right sized strainer to separate the grains (which look like cottage cheese and do the actual fermenting) from the liquid that you drink, I just about fell apart.

This afternoon I had physical therapy, which I told myself was the only thing I “had” to do today. And whereas it wasn’t fun, I survived. Then I went to the health food store to pick up and try a natural pain reliever I read about online (I can’t stay off the internet), then to Walmart to get that strainer I needed. At Walmart I also bought a gallon of water, which I’ve been drinking all day in hopes of flushing out any foreign invaders in my body. (Consequently, I’m currently getting up every twenty minutes to pee.) Then I came home, ate a quick lunch, and went back to bed.

The nap, I think, helped. I still don’t feel great, but I do feel better than I did this afternoon. This evening I’ve tried to “eat light, eat right” and take it easy. That is, I drank green tea and practiced knitting. Now I’m obviously blogging, and with any luck I can be done before long, do my physical therapy exercises again, and go back to bed.

With everything else that’s going on with my body (I just had knee surgery and have some skin and stomach issues), I’m really not amused with this sinus junk, especially since I’ve had so much trouble with my sinuses in the past. That being said, I haven’t had a full-blown infection in over a year, so that’s something to celebrate. (Insert throwing of confetti here.) And who knows how this will turn out? It’s not full-blown yet, and I’m trying a home remedy that’s worked a number of times before, so fingers crossed. Still, it’s difficult for me to not awfulize, feel sorry for myself, and imagine the worst.

In times like these, whenever my “this sucks” plate is full, I really want to throw in the towel and stop doing everything that’s good for me. I want to quit working out, quit eating a decent diet, and quit positive thinking because “none of this shit works.” It’s a childish attitude, I realize, but it’s my attitude, and it’s honest. Whenever I get overwhelmed, I want to take all my toys, go home, and eat chocolate cake. I mean, if I’m going to get sick anyway, screw you, Healthy Living.

This isn’t the way to be, of course. Just because you get sick or experience a setback (or half a dozen), doesn’t mean it’s time to give up on good habits. It certainly doesn’t mean it’s time to give up on yourself. Rather, for me, this setback is a reminder to be there for myself, to listen to my body and care for it even more than I have been. Sweetheart, we’ve been through a lot. How can I help you? In an effort to do this, I plan to use the weekend to rest, drink plenty of fluids, and–perhaps, no, definitely–clean up my diet. Because honestly, it could be worse, but it could be a lot better.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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There is a force, a momentum that dances with all of us, sometimes lifting us up in the air, sometimes bringing us back down in a great mystery of starts and stops.

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On Musterbation (Blog #664)

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The above photo was taken by my friend Tom Wilmer during our recent travel writing trip to Fall Creek Falls State Park in the Upper Cumberland region of Tennessee. Apparently the tree in the photo is one of the most photographed trees in America, and if you Google “Buzzard’s Roost tree” you can see even more of it. I’m using the photo tonight–even though all I can think about when I look at it is how not-flat my stomach looks–in order to prove a point, which I’ll get to shortly. Plus, the photo reminds me that I used to have two functioning knees and before long I’ll be back to running around state parks, crawling around mountaintops, and–eeek!–dancing.

This afternoon I went to the chiropractor and got a massage (at the chiropractor’s office). I can’t tell you how grateful I am for these people. So often I insist on suffering, like, I can take care of this problem myself. But whenever I do break down and ask for help, I actually get it. So this is me being thankful for my chiropractor and massage therapist and everyone else who’s helped me this week–my dermatologist, my therapist, my physical therapist, and–oh!–a very nice gentleman at Kinko’s today.

The Kinko’s trip had to do with printing off and signing some paperwork to finally–finally–settle my bodily injury claim with the insurance company of the man who knocked the shit out of me over a year ago and totaled my car. This has been one of the most frustrating ordeals I’ve ever gone through. And whereas I’m not completely happy with the way it’s turning out, I’m not completely dissatisfied either, so I’m moving on. What’s done is done, and now I can think about/worry about/stress about other pressing matters. This has taken eighteen months of my life, and God knows I have plenty of other things on my mental and emotional plate to deal with.

This evening I curled up on my futon with a cup of hot tea and read several chapters in Wayne Dyer’s I Can See Clearly Now, a book that’s reminding me that there are no accidents, everything in one’s life is good and useful (although sometimes it takes years to see this), and the mind is a powerful creator and healer. In one story, Wayne describes seeing a woman (under hypnosis, I think) cause her skin to physically blister when she was touched with a rubber eraser because she believed it was a hot poker. Is that crazy or what? But Wayne’s point was that our beliefs truly can and do affect our realities, so they’re worth examining. In terms of my present health challenges, I’m personally trying to shift my thinking from This will never get better to My body is both willing and able to heal.

In another story, Wayne talks about the work of Albert Ellis, a man who greatly influenced Wayne’s thinking. Ellis, as I understand, was the creator of Rational Emotive Therapy (RET), which came before and has similarities to Cognitive Behavior Therapy (CBT). Both therapies contend that it’s not outside people or events that cause our unhappiness, but rather our thoughts or beliefs about those people or events that cause our unhappiness. According to Ellis, in a video I watched on YouTube, we “disturb” ourselves whenever we think things MUST be a certain way. He says the three big MUSTS are, “I must do well or I’m no good, you–you louse–must treat me well or you’re worthless and deserve to roast in hell, and the world must give me precisely what I want or it’s a horrible, awful place.”

Sticking with today’s events as examples, this theory would contend that it’s not the fact that my stomach isn’t flat that disturbs me, but rather my belief that my stomach must (or should) be any different than it actually is. Likewise, it’s not the fact that my car accident matter dragged on for over a year that stresses me out, but rather my belief that “this shouldn’t have taken so long.” Ellis refers to this kind of thinking–in which we place demands on ourselves, others, and the universe that are in direct opposition to what-is–as musterbation. Is that great or what?

“Masturbation is good and delicious,” he says, “but musterbation is evil and pernicious.”

There are no rules.

With this in mind, I’m trying to lighten up on myself. For example, normally by this time of night (12:23 AM) I’m done with the blog and already at the gym doing physical therapy, so there’s a part of me that thinks, I must finish up. I must go work out. Fuck! I’m behind. Then my mind launches into all sorts of “the world will fall apart” scenarios because I’m not obeying my made-up rules. (No one else is obeying them either, by the way.) But the truth is, there are no rules. Nothing MUST happen other that what IS happening right here, right now.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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None of us is ever really lost. At least we're never really alone. For always there is someone to help point your ship in the right direction, someone who sees you when you can't see yourself.

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There’s Still Life to Live (Blog #652)

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Currently it’s 11:00 at night, and I’m in Nashville with my friend Bonnie and her family. Bonnie’s daughter-in-law and my friend Mallory is turning 30 tomorrow–well, in an hour–so we’re here celebrating. This morning I got up at 8:30 to pack and get ready for all this. I even did a set of my knee rehab exercises before Bonnie picked me up at 11:00. Y’all, Bonnie’s got this cool little convertible, a Volkswagen, and I normally love, love, love riding in it. However, things were a little cramped today, since we traveled with Bonnie’s grand-dog in the backseat, and then there was all our luggage.

Oh yeah, and I just had knee surgery.

The trip was about eight hours. Honestly, all that time in the car was rough on my leg. As a general rule, it feels restless, and it didn’t help today that I was scrunched up like a push-in accordion. That being said, Bonnie and I had plenty of time to talk, and I was even able to read and take a nap. Plus, we stopped a few times for fuel and food, which gave me a chance to stretch. Hell, we had lunch at IKEA in Memphis, and since the food court was in the middle of the freaking warehouse-sized store, I got my slow-cardio in for the day. Slow-cardio because I’m still walking like a one-legged pirate. And whereas I teased Bonnie about making a crippled limp all over God’s green earth for lunch, I probably needed it, since I ate chocolate cake for dessert.

This evening we hung out with Bonnie’s boys (one of whom is married to Mallory), Mallory, and Mallory’s parents. This morning I seriously considered backing out of trip. The whole getting ready process really wore me out. Plus, life has been a lot lately, and it’s taking everything I’ve got just to do my daily rehab exercises and–literally and figuratively–put one foot in front of the other. Anyway, everyone tonight was great. They didn’t ask a thing of me, just let me hang out and even do my rehab exercises in the middle of the living room. And–and, and, and–when I leaned on the handrail to their stairs and broke it, they didn’t even make a big deal about it. Rather, they simply wanted to know if I was okay (I was).

Mallory’s mom said, “I guess we’re not ADA (Americans with Disabilities Act) compliant anymore.”

Now it’s close to midnight, and we’re back at Bonnie’s son Tim’s house, which is up two flights of stairs. The good news is that I can actually go up and down them without “too” much trouble, and a week ago this wouldn’t have been the case. Earlier I was thinking of some of my other trips to Nashville in the last couple of years, and I know there were times I didn’t feel great then either–just having gotten over the flu or whatever. But I wouldn’t trade the memories of those trips for anything. My point is that despite my body’s current challenges, I’m glad I’m here. Sure, my chips are down, but there’s still life to live.

Now, in an effort to take care of myself, I’m going to get ready for bed.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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No good story ever ends.

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I’m Not in Charge Here (Blog #651)

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This afternoon I had my second physical therapy appointment to rehab my recently repaired knee (I tore my ACL, had surgery). Today they added new exercises–heel raises, balancing on one foot, one-leg presses, and this thing where I sit in a rolly chair, dig my heels into the carpet, and pull myself around the room. Talk about feeling conspicuous. That being said, pretty much everyone in the room today was gimped up in one way or another. One lady was doing leg exercises like I was, another was doing shoulder work, and another was working on her elbow. Hell, even one of the staff members had his leg in a boot and was walking with a cane. I thought, THESE are my people.

For forty minutes I stretched, lifted, and flexed my left leg. The hardest thing was practicing going DOWN stairs, since apparently you bend your knee twice as much going down stairs as you do when you go up them. Anyway, I broke a sweat. But then they wrapped my leg in an ice blanket, and I quickly cooled off. Especially since the machine sprung a leak and squirted water all over my leg and all down my sock. That felt good.

After physical therapy, I came home and took a nap. Seriously, I don’t have a lot of energy and can’t seem to get enough rest. Probably because my leg keeps waking me up at night. I keep telling myself this is normal, that the doctor took a drill bit long enough to tunnel through a stack of two-by-fours and ran it through my leg, so it should be achy, tired, and pissed off. Still, I have a hard time slowing down and giving my body what it’s asking for (rest). For one thing, I’m used to being active. For another, I’m supposed to be doing rehab exercises two or three times a day at home or the gym, and I can’t exactly do those while I’m sleeping.

To be clear, the rehab exercises aren’t so much difficult as they are time-consuming. Originally there were nine exercises, and now I think I’m up to twelve or fifteen, depending on whether I’m at home or at the gym. Again, that’s three times a day. As my mom says, getting better has become a full-time job. Still, it’s paying off. Today my physical therapist seemed impressed with my ability to balance on one leg and said I was actually “ahead of the curve.” So that’s something.

Lately–over the last year–I’ve been trying to lower my standards. What I mean is that I’m used to a certain level of energy and activity, and my body simply hasn’t been consistently capable of that for a while now. So I’m trying to listen to it. My therapist says something big happens whenever you can really give into the universe and say, “Fine, damn it. I’m not in charge here. I’m on your time schedule.” What that big thing is, I don’t know. Probably inner peace or some shit like that. But again, I’m trying, to be okay with how things are right here, right now, to let sleeping as much as possible and doing my rehab exercises be my life for a while.

Okay, I’m off to the gym.

And then to bed.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"No one comes into this life knowing how to dance, always moving with grace."

Two Scoops of Trouble (Blog #642)

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It’s the first day of the new year, and I’m fighting a headache, a small one. Probably because I spent the afternoon drinking beer. Not like an idiot, mind you, like a sophisticated adult. (With his pinky raised in the air.) It’s most likely a wheat thing. I don’t think my body tolerates it the same way it used to, and I hate that. Or maybe the headache is a result of my being slumped in a chair all day. Poor posture can do that. Sitting is the new smoking, they say. Whatever the case, this too shall pass.

If I don’t first.

To be clear, I wasn’t drinking alone; I spent most the day with my friend Justin. This was the perfect way to start 2019, with one of my closest and long-time friends, discussing everything from our personal challenges to fly fishing and time travel. I recently had knee surgery, and Justin watched me go through my rehab exercises and–when we got out of the house for food later–offered his support if I needed someone to lean on. And whereas I didn’t, there’s just something about a good friend, someone who joins you wherever you are and doesn’t make a big deal out of it.

Other than hanging out with Justin, I’ve spent this evening doing (more) rehab exercises, washing and folding laundry (for the first time since before surgery), and binging on Netflix’s Atypical (Season 2), a series about an autistic teenager and his family. In the last episode I watched (before I told myself, Stop, Marcus, stop and blog), one of the characters proposed that autistics are actually normal because they see the world as it is without adding an extra layer of meaning to it. Conversely, they said, neurotypicals (people who aren’t autistic) are “off” because we take what is and extrapolate. For example, in the series (and I’m about to give away critical details from season one), one of the characters has an affair. Of course, their spouse is upset and takes the affair quite personally. But to the autistic character it’s nothing to be upset about; it’s just a fact. He says, “I’ve never met anyone who’s committed adultery before.”

What I like about this scene and interaction is that it reminds me to come back to the facts whenever my head starts spinning. Like, in terms of my injured knee, it’s easy for me to take an already challenging situation and make it worse by adding on layer and layer of worry, anxiety, panic, and fear. But the truth is simple. I recently had knee surgery and will do rehab exercises three times a day for the next week. At that point, I’ll be given further instructions. (Simple.) Granted, I don’t have to like this simple truth, but I’m happier if do. Once a friend said, “If it’s raining outside and I hate that, it’s still raining.” Their point is clear–there’s a lot in life we can’t control, but our perspective is one of the things we can.

A shift in perspective. This, I think, is nothing short of a miracle. As I’ve been blogging, my headache has only gotten worse, but even saying something like, “This too shall pass,” reminds me it’s not permanent. Nothing here is permanent. Last year an entire year passed away. For weeks I’ve battled a skin rash, and now it’s all but disappeared, as if it were never here in the first place. This is the way life is. Problems show up out of nowhere, stay a while, then go back to where they came from. More and more, I’m learning to meet the problems in my life as if they were a good friend. (Okay, maybe just a decent friend.) But my point is, knowing our time together is limited, I might as well face facts and welcome my challenges right here, right now. Why make a big deal about them by adding an “isn’t it awful?” cherry on top of my trials and tribulations sundae?

Two scoops of trouble is enough for me, thanks.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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if you're content with yourself and you're always with yourself, then what's the problem?

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Grasping for Door Knobs (Blog #639)

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Last night I slept badly again–tossed and turned, had weird dreams, woke up with a headache. When I finally stumbled out of bed and used my walker to make my way into the living room this morning and my dad asked how I was, I said not so great. “Still,” I said, “I’m going to have an attitude of gratitude.” Then, since we both speak sarcasm, we laughed, and I ate chocolate cake for breakfast while I propped my injured leg up on the coffee table to help straighten it out. Honestly, this is the most painful thing I do–try to fully straighten or fully bend my knee. And whereas I’m making progress, it’s slight.

A little bit here, a little bit there.

After breakfast I did my first set of rehab exercises for the day, then iced my leg. Then I read, took a nap, ate a snack, and did the exercises/ice thing again. Then I ate dinner, and now I’m blogging while drinking a chocolate shake, which I’m assuming is what my post-operation directions had in mind when they told me to “eat nutritious foods because they help you heal.” After this, it’ll be the exercises/ice thing again, then back to bed for HOPEFULLY a good night’s rest.

Clearly, my days after surgery are revolving around physical therapy and ice packs, and I hate that. I hate that a month ago it was easy to get in and out of bed, in and out of a chair, and in and out of shower, and now I have to think like MacGyver to do any of those things. I hate that everything from getting a Q-Tip to changing my underwear now has to be “thought out.” Last night during The Great Sleep Disaster of 2018, I woke up at four in the morning sweating; my shirt was soaked. Not like I had a fever, but it was definitely damp. Anyway, I got up to change shirts, and despite the fact that my closet is only five feet from the end of my bed, I had to think about things. What am I going to hold on to? What am I going to lean against?

I think it’s the leaning against thing that pisses me off the most. I guess it’d be more accurate to say “that I have the hardest time accepting.” For so long I’ve done everything on my own. Easily flitted from here to there. And now I’m finding myself in countless awkward positions–hopping on one leg, using crutches, grasping for door knobs–just to change a shirt. Byron Katie says that we’re always supported. By life or whatever. Like, if you’re sitting in a chair, the chair’s holding you, and the ground’s holding the chair. And if you trip and fall, well, there’s the ground again, holding you. Most people, of course, would be mad about the trip, but her point (I think) is that in this moment–right here, right now–the trip is over.

From this perspective, I can’t do anything about that dance accident I had four weeks ago. It’s over. But I can recognize that I’m currently in a warm bed and my leg is resting on a pillow. Supported. And I can try–try–to be grateful for my one good leg, for crutches, and for door knobs. For anything I need to lean against.

Since it’s day three after surgery and my directions said I could, this evening (after dinner) I removed the gauze and bandages around my knee. Ugh. There was a lot of dried blood. Also, there were staples, which I wasn’t completely prepared for. You know, sometimes they do things laparoscopically. And whereas there were two such incision points, there were also two “cuts,” one with five staples, and one with twelve. (Prepare yourself, since I’m going to post a picture.) Honestly, I can’t figure out how I feel about these incisions. I mean, I’m grateful that I’ve been repaired, but my knee looks like the side of Frankenstein’s face. I don’t know, I guess it’s the finality of the whole thing. This really happened. I’m going to have a scar.

All things considered, it could be worse. After I took the bandages off, I carefully navigated my way into the bathtub and cleaned up for the first time in four days. Phew, did that feel good. Also, it was exhausting, getting in and out of the tub. Seriously, this is a lot of emotional back and forth–feeling grateful, feeling pissed. But this is life. It’s never just one thing.

Whenever I finish blogging, I’m going to cover my staples with bandages as instructed. However, for now, my view is essentially your view in the picture. 17 shiny staples staring back at me. Earlier today while trying to climb into bed, my left knee gave out–er, faltered–and I fell back into the bed. Now I see why. It’s been though a lot. But this has happened a few times, when all my strength wasn’t there, and I’ve had to catch myself. My point is, there’s always that uncertainty–Am I going to be able to hold myself up? This is something I thought a lot about during the night last night, the applicable metaphors regarding this injury. Because these are some of my greatest fears–Can I walk tall and move confidently forward in the world? Can I support myself?

A few times since starting tonight’s blog, I’ve reached down with my left hand to simply feel my knee. Physically, it’s a little swollen, tender, and–um–leaky. (That’s gross, I know, but this is real life and facts are facts.) When I put my hand on my knee, I can’t help but cry. It’s like I’m putting my hand on the shoulder of a dear friend who feels sad and tired. Oh so tired. Like it’s been though a lot, and not just this last month. At the same time, it feels willing to heal, willing to try again, willing to support me like it has for all these years, despite my never having given it any credit for all its hard work until now. It seems to say, We’ve got this. Be patient. Grasping for door knobs is only temporary. I hope this makes sense. More and more, I really do believe our bodies are trying to communicate with us.

More and more, I’m trying to listen.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Even a twisted tree grows tall and strong.

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Anything but Unremarkable (Blog #638)

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It’s day two after knee surgery, and last night I slept for shit. At five in the morning, I woke up with a headache, I guess because I’m having to sleep in an awkward/unfamiliar position to baby my leg. Anyway, it’s the weirdest thing when you wake up in pain and can’t easily move to do anything about it. First you lie there hoping it will go away. Then you slowly wake up, realize the pain’s not going anyway, and try to formulate a plan–because when you’re knee doesn’t work, everything including getting out of bed, going the bathroom, and taking a Tylenol requires a strategy. But I did it–got up, used the bathroom, popped some pills, and went back to bed.

All by myself.

Today itself has been unremarkable. This afternoon I got a package in the mail–some herbs I ordered on Amazon–and the package was empty. No kidding; not a damn thing was inside. Go figure. Anyway, that’s how the day’s felt–blah. I haven’t taken any high-grade pain medicine since last night. The good news is I’m not hurting. The bad news is I’m uncomfortable. That’s the best way I can describe it. Like I want to jump out of my skin. Plus, my throat is scratchy from the breathing tube the anesthesiologist used, and I haven’t showered in three days (I can’t until tomorrow). I smell gross, I feel gross, I have gross all over me.

Ick.

So far I’ve done my rehab exercises five times–three times yesterday, two today. Three times a day is what’s “required.” By the time I get myself down on the floor, curse my way through the exercises, and stop a few times for breaks, each session takes about an hour. This seems like a long time, but–hell–what else am I doing? Getting better, I’m telling myself, is now my full-time job.

The exciting thing–if that’s the right word–about doing the exercises is that I can already see progress. Like, how my knee can bend a little bit more (with encouragement) or how I can lift my leg off the ground more easily (without having to wrap a towel around my foot and pull it up). Also, I’ve been scooting around the house using a walker rather than crutches, and that’s helping me practice picking up my left leg, putting a little weight on it, and going through the motions of walking. I assume this is how progress is going to come–a little at a time–so I’m trying to embrace the process.

Woo.

This afternoon I read a book for about an hour, which means my concentration is returning. That was a thing for a minute, not being able to concentrate, either because of the anesthesia or the pain medicine. However, after reading, despite the fact that I’d only been up a few hours, I took a two-hour nap. So that’s still a thing, being easily worn out and needing to rest.

Okay, I’m frustrated. Anyway I look at it, this is simply a pain in my ass. Well, my knee, which is possibly worse. Do you know how hard it is to walk to the kitchen for a piece of chocolate cake or sit on a toilet seat when your knee doesn’t work? As I said yesterday, I’m over it. However, while doing my rehab exercises, I listened to a lecture by Caroline Myss and was reminded that each of us wields a great amount of power that not only affects our own personal lives, but also the lives of others. This power, she says, starts with the thoughts we think, which are indeed acts of creation. And since one thought leads to another (and another and another), she suggests imagining the potential different outcomes that could arise from waking up and saying, “Today is a good day,” versus saying, “Today is a disaster.”

So despite today’s challenges and frustrations, I’m choosing to say, “Today is a good day,” anything but unremarkable, a day for a progress, a day for healing.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Sometimes we move with grace and sometimes we move with struggle. But at some point, standing still is no longer good enough.

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Full of Silver Linings (Blog #626)

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Despite sleeping last night for a solid twelve hours, I’ve been dragging ass today. Also, I’ve been dragging my left leg, and I’m sure the fact that my knee is injured is contributing to my general exhaustion. Ugh. Everything from taking a shower to putting my pants on simply takes more effort than it used to. But I’m working on being gentle with myself, by seriously lowering my standards regarding what constitutes a “productive” day. After I took a shower this afternoon (and shaved!), I thought, That’s enough. If I do nothing else for the rest of the day, I showered!

Yesterday my friend Bonnie sent me a meme that said, “Your worth is not measured by your productivity.” And whereas I agree, this is a tough idea for me to shake, that “getting shit done” isn’t what it’s all about. (It’s the Hokey Pokey, duh.) Anyway, I’m trying to remember this, that my inherent value hasn’t changed just because my mobility has.

Yesterday after seeing the Symphony of Northwest Arkansas, I went to Dickson Street Bookshop, one of my favorite used bookstores anywhere, ever. No kidding, it’s awesome; there are more books than you could shake a stick at. Thankfully, I was able to limit myself to one purchase, a book about the “benefits” of being ill. This afternoon I read the first few chapters, and the author’s point seems to be that often a debilitating illness (like arthritic hips in his case or a bum knee in mine) causes us to slow down and thus affords us opportunities we might not otherwise afford ourselves. For example, we might use our down time to reflect, reconsider our priorities, write a book, or even–here’s a novel idea–tell someone no.

I guess a book would be a novel idea too. (Insert groan here.)

So far, this line of thinking makes sense to me. As frustrating as it is for me to have an injured knee, I do appreciate what it’s teaching me. Already I’ve been forced to receive kindnesses from friends and strangers I would have under different circumstances refused to accept. Surely this is a good thing, just like it’s been a good thing for me slow down, slow way down, this last year while I’ve battled a number of health challenges. Before all this mess started, I almost never slowed down, almost never got still and really sat with my emotions. I mean really. But that’s a benefit to being sick. It makes you raw. It makes you listen to yourself.

Or at least it strongly encourages you to listen to yourself.

Not that I’m not ready for all this bullshit to be over. I am. I’m ready to walk again, ready to dance again, ready to wake up in the morning ready and willing to go. One day. For now, this is my life, and I’m working on accepting it with grace. Working on it. This afternoon I saw a dear friend who just had back surgery. They were told, “You can eat a BLT, but you can’t BLT (bend, lift, or twist).” This evening I had dinner with a friend who’s having surgery on their wrist after the first of the year. And it’s not that misery loves company. Because I’m not miserable. That’s my point. It’s difficult to feel miserable when you really get it–I’m not alone here.

This is the human condition. Fraught with challenges. At the same time, full of silver linings.

Earlier tonight I tried replacing a lightbulb in one of my chandeliers. However, something is apparently wrong with the socket. No matter how many different perfectly good bulbs I put in it, it wouldn’t light up. And so it is with this body. I’ve tried everything I know to do, and it’s still tired, still hurts. Are things forever hopeless for me and my chandelier? Absolutely not. First, for my chandelier, there’s always Lowe’s. Second, for me, the body is full of wonders, capable of all kinds of miracles. Last week I developed a skin rash that had me all kinds of stressed out, but the last few days, it’s been improving. It’s not perfect, but it’s moving in the right direction. So I have to believe the body tends toward repair. I have to believe life wants me to heal, if not physically then at least deep down. I have to believe that even my challenges serve this purpose, since they not only allow me to meet myself in a new way, but also reveal strengths and powers within me I previously did not know existed.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You have everything you need.

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The Juice Was Worth the Squeeze (Blog #619)

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I spent this afternoon at the Fort Smith Little Theater. Today was the final performance of our holiday variety show, for a private group that bought out the entire theater. The show went really well, and the best part was that the vast majority of the audience members were elderly. What I mean is that since I’ve been on crutches this last week, I’ve felt a tiny bit conspicuous, like the odd man out, the only guy in the room with just one working kneecap. But y’all, today the AVERAGE person in the audience was in a wheelchair. Talk about feeling at home. There were broken knees and hips on every aisle. Hell, by comparison, I looked SPRY.

As they say, everything is relative.

After last night’s show (which also went well), we had a cast party, and some of my friends had to carry my food from the buffet line to where I was sitting, since I couldn’t carry it for myself (what with the crutches and all). I say they “had to,” but of course they volunteered to. No one held a gun to their heads. Indeed, they assisted quite willingly. This is the thing I’m still processing, that so many people seem eager to lend me a hand, grab me a drink of water, or help me get to my car. It really is humbling. And good for me, I think. I’ve been SO independent for so long, I’ve needed this reminder. No man is an island.

When today’s show was over, most of the cast stayed to tear down the set and clean up the theater. However, since I’m grossly immobile, the only thing I could help clean was the kitchen. That is to say, I ate all the leftover cheese from last night’s party. (You’re welcome.) But seriously, I threw a few things away, then left the work to those who were more able and agile. For a “do-er” like me, this wasn’t exactly easy, walking away from “a project.” Well, LIMPING away from a project. But I think it’s important to realize–there are times to show up and rise to the occasion, and there are times to bow out and walk/limp away, and it’s good to know the difference.

I spent this evening with my friends and former roommates Justin and Ashley at their house. We talked for hours and hours. (We laughed, we cried, lives were changed.) At one point Justin used a phrase I hadn’t heard before–“the juice wasn’t worth the squeeze.” I don’t remember what he was referring to, but isn’t that the perfect saying? Personally, I’m going to start using it anytime I get asked about one of my exes.

Yuck, yuck, yuck.

As I was at Justin and Ashley’s until after midnight, it’s now almost two in the morning. No kidding, I really did try to get away sooner, but Justin and I don’t do short conversations. Anyway, I’ve been thinking about that phrase in reverse. What I mean is that when I was visiting with Justin, I KNEW I’d come home late and be blogging during the wee hours (and that my brain and body would want to be in bed instead). But I’m okay with being tired and a little frustrated (that I can’t rub two thoughts together in this moment) because I got a huge amount of joy and satisfaction from hanging out with my dear friends. In other words, the juice WAS WORTH the squeeze.

Likewise, being involved at the theater this last week has been physically challenging. Every day for the last eight days–every day since my knee injury–I’ve had to get dressed (not the easiest thing with a bum leg), crawl into my car, and slowly crutch my way on and off stage, even though I could have easily stayed home. But this morning my dad said, “I imagine this has been good for you, that it’s distracted you from your problems and helped the week go faster.” He was right–it has. And despite how difficult it’s been at times, this experience has given more than it’s taken–I’ve learned new things, made new friends, laughed my butt off, and come to see the world as a kinder place.

So that’s big.

Use your challenges as a vehicle for transformation, not consternation.

I guess what I’m getting at is that this knee problem is not something I’d choose to have happen again. My life turned upside down in an unfortunate instant. But already it’s taught me so much that again I’d have to say–the juice was worth the squeeze. I say that and realize this ordeal isn’t over. I mean, I’m probably looking at surgery and rehab, and I’m sure those things will be a serious drag. I’ll probably curse a lot. But this is a choice I think we all have to make either before, during, or even long after the “squeezes” in our lives–whether or not the are going to be “worth it” to us. For me, it comes down to looking for the good instead of the bad, to using my challenges as a vehicle for transformation, not consternation.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Sometimes life can really kick you in the balls and make you drop to your knees.

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On Pulling Taffy and Cracking Nuts (Blog #614)

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This morning, on crutches, I went to see my chiropractor and my massage therapist. (It’s a two-for-one deal.) And whereas it took all the energy I had, I’m glad I went, since they focused on my shoulder that’s been bothering me for over a month now. Plus, my chiropractor adjusted my hips and back, which he said were out of whack because my right side has been compensating for my left side, which makes sense, we both agreed, since I jacked up my left knee this last weekend and haven’t been able to walk on two legs since.

Just call me Hop-along Cassidy.

This is always a challenge for me, taking care of one part of me when another part of me isn’t working. I’m such an all-or-nothing person that I either want to be “all engines go” or give up completely. Like, if my leg doesn’t work, then screw my shoulder, my sinuses, and the dry skin on my elbow. Perhaps this is a childish inclination. I just get so overwhelmed, paralyzed. Of course, it’s not logical to stop attending to every little problem simply because a bigger one comes along, so, despite my limited mobility, I’m trying to continue initiating acts of self-care.

For example, I saw my chiropractor and my massage therapist today, and I’m still brushing my teeth twice a day.

After my appointment was over, I got a call about scheduling my MRI. And whereas I was hoping it would be this week, it’s going to be next week on Monday. My mom said she had to wait a full two weeks for her MRI when she was first diagnosed with cancer, so I guess six days isn’t that long.

This afternoon I started reading a book about time. So far, it’s mostly about one’s personal and subjective experience of time, which our brains keep track of based on MOTION and CHANGE. Along these lines, research shows that time seems to fly by when we’re having a good time because we’re so focused on what we’re doing (or whom we’re doing) that our brains AREN’T keeping track of what’s moving and changing outside of our field of focus. The idea is that if we don’t perceive many things or events as having happened, we feel like not much time has passed. Conversely, the book says, time seems to drag on when we’re in pain or a miserable location (like a prison cell or the Department of Motor Vehicles) because, since they have nothing better to do, our brains are hyper-focused on every little movement and change that’s happening in and around us. We think, He stood up, I scratched my nose, she moved her finger. Oh my god! I’ve been here FOREVER.

When it’s only been six seconds.

After reading for a while, I took a nap. And whereas I wanted it to last three hours, it only lasted one. (Today, class, we’re going to learn about lowering your expectations.) Anyway, it’s weird how your body does that, acts absolutely exhausted, tells you it could sleep for days, but then won’t even take a decent nap when given the chance. What the hell? Ugh. I wish I could sleep until next week. Actually, I wish I could sleep until my body heals and I feel like a normal human being again. Whatever normal is. Last night on social media I saw a picture of me at the Little Theater, and I didn’t even recognize myself at first. What with the crutches and all. Plus, I WAS wearing an elf costume. But my point is, I thought, WHEN did this become my life?!

Whatever. This is my life–tired, in pain, on crutches. At least part of my life anyway. At least for now. And whereas I don’t want to IGNORE my problems, I also don’t want to DWELL on them. Rather, I want to read a book, go to the Little Theater–um–give myself ANYTHING POSITIVE to focus on, so that my personal unpleasantries won’t seem to drag on in my subjective reality any longer than they actually drag on in my objective reality. This, I think, is the power of our minds and our attention, that we can take an experience and stretch it out like a piece of taffy (That took FOREVER) or compress it down like–what’s a good analogy?–a nutcracker (There, that was quick and relatively painless).

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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As taught in the story of the phoenix, a new life doesn't come without the old one first being burned away.

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