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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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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Our Spirits Aren’t Intimidated (Blog #625)

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This morning I finished house sitting for my friends, which means I packed up all my things and toted them to my car (and later, back home). Normally this wouldn’t be something I’d be proud of–moving my luggage–but as yesterday was my first time walking since my recent left knee injury, it is. Hell, I’m proud of the fact that I brought in the morning paper. You should have seen me go, up and down three concrete steps, all the way to the curb, and back. Granted, a toddler could have done it faster, but using my own legs at any speed beats using crutches or a walker.

Despite the fact that my knee is injured, it’s supported me all day. This afternoon I went to Fayetteville to hear the Symphony of Northwest Arkansas (SoNA) with my friend Betty and managed to get around just like a normal person. Well, a normal person in low gear. Still, I walked from the car into the concert hall, up and down the aisles for the performance (it was gorgeous), to dinner afterwards, then back to the car. Only once did my knee feel like it was going to give out, and then just for a moment.

The biggest issue I’m having with my knee is that it’s rusty. That is, it’s stiff. If I bend it like I did while sitting during the concert, it wants to stay in that position. Consequently, standing up takes longer than passing a bill through congress. The opposite is also true. If I straighten my leg, it doesn’t want to bend. Thankfully, the concert wasn’t anything like a Catholic church service, in which you have to constantly change positions–stand, sit, kneel–stand, sit, kneel. We did, however, have to stand a couple times to sing or clap. And whereas my rising and sitting looked like that slow-motion scene in The Matrix, I made it.

This evening, with the assistance of my parents, I hauled my luggage from my car into my room. Then I unpacked. Again, I used to think nothing of this. But you don’t realize how much ground you cover moving your shirts from your luggage to your closet and your toiletries to your bathroom until every step requires consideration, planning, and willpower. No kidding, I’m worn out. With any luck, I’ll finish this blog post-haste and get to bed. I’m finding this is muy importante (that’s Spanish for “very important,” Mom), getting enough rest, giving my body time to heal. It has, after all, been traumatized. But I’m learning to trust it, to actually believe it’s doing the best it can. Because although I’m walking slowly, I am walking. And I just can’t say it enough.

This is no small thing.

Our spirits aren’t intimidated by anything physical.

I’m making a big deal about being able to walk. Well, sort of walk. But to be clear, I’ve found that my joy is not dependent on being traditionally mobile. Last week while on crutches, I was in a Christmas variety show, and I can’t remember the last time I laughed so much. This afternoon during the concert one of the performances was so beautiful that it brought me to tears. I thought, I don’t need my legs to enjoy this moment. Yes, I’m glad I have them. Yes, I want my left leg to “do right” again. But I’m reminded that the outer world can’t dictate my inner world. Sure, it can try, but ultimately I decide whether or not a challenge will bring me down or alternatively bring out the best in me. Yes, even when my body drags, this spirit can still soar. Because our spirits answer to a different set of rules. Indeed, they aren’t intimidated by anything physical.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We follow the mystery, never knowing what’s next.

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A Day for Hoping (Blog #624)

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It’s 8:30 on a Friday night, and I’ve been doing laundry for the last three hours and eating peanut butter by the spoonful. I know–I live a sexy life. (Try not to be jealous.) During my second load of laundry (of three), a pair of athletic shorts I’ve had since Jesus was a small boy got “hung up” in the dryer. I guess the drawstring snagged on the lint catcher. When I pulled the shorts out, the string was wound up tighter than a spring. Alas, the string was beyond repair, since it was sewn into the shorts and there was no way I could re-thread it. So grabbing a pair of scissors, I snipped the string and removed it altogether.

All good things must come to an end.

This morning, at the direction of my primary care physician, I saw an orthopedic surgeon who specializes in knees and sports injuries. This ended up being the best thing, and I consider it “an act of the universe” because I only called to make the appointment yesterday. Having looked at my MRI, the surgeon explained that as a result of my accident two weeks ago, I’d 1) bruised a bone, which was no deal at all, 2) torn my lateral meniscus, which was a small deal, and 3) severed my ACL, which was a big deal. He went on to say that the meniscus acts as a shock absorber and is basically a backup system for your joints. “They help stave off arthritis,” he said, “and I tell people that if you make it to 40 with yours intact, you’ve gotten your money’s worth. You’re 38, so close enough.” Then he said that because your ACL runs THROUGH your kneecap and gets a limited supply of blood, it CAN’T repair or heal itself when badly damaged.

“Yours is dying as we speak,” he said.

So that felt good.

The surgeon proposed shaving off the damaged part of my meniscus (since sewing a meniscus back together doesn’t work) and reconstructing my ACL with part of my own patellar tendon (the tendon just below one’s kneecap). He said, “If we used a cadaver’s, you’d heal faster, but your own will function slightly better. Since you’re an active person and I want you as strong as possible, I’d suggest using your own.” And then–get this shit. For the last thirteen days I’ve been hopping around on one leg, using crutches, using a walker. But like some sort of FAITH HEALER, this guy today said, “Stop using your crutches. Stop using your brace. I want you WALKING before surgery.”

Remembering how my leg gave out while I was performing two weeks, I sat there in disbelief.

The surgeon went on to explain that “you don’t need your ACL to walk,” since it’s responsible for twisting and pivoting movements, but other muscles, ligaments, and tendons are responsible for everyday getting around. Then he talked me through straightening my leg out fully and bending it to at least ninety degrees. Y’all, I almost fainted the pain was so awful. But the surgeon said, “If you think a loose knee is bad, you should try a stiff one.” (I thought, I’d rather try a stiff drink.) Still, his point was that I’ve gotta get my leg moving through its normal range of motion both before and after surgery so that my knee doesn’t “lock down.” Plus, he said movement would help reduce swelling, which I have plenty of.

So we have a plan. Surgery is scheduled for December 26. (Merry Christmas, Marcus Coker.) If you’d like, send cards, flowers, chocolates, and handsome, eligible bachelors to me by way of my parents.

Believe it or not, after all this time of my being fearful of putting weight on my left leg, I walked out of the surgeon’s office and have been walking the rest of the day. Sure, it’s not overly graceful walking–I’m not ready for the runway–but this is huge progress. Hell, I’ve even been walking up and down stairs. And whereas I can sometimes feel my knee strain, the surgeon said, “Don’t worry. You won’t do any damage. It’s ALREADY TORN.”

So that was a nice reminder.

Here’s a picture of the brace I no longer have to wear. Notice the cat (Oscar) peeking over the kitchen island.

Considering the fact that I haven’t fallen down yet, I’m thrilled about being able to walk. Honestly, I’ve been more optimistic today than I have been in the last two weeks. Like, life doesn’t completely suck. What does suck, I’ll admit, are these stretching exercises. Straightening my leg isn’t so bad, but bending it hurts like hell. I get nauseated every time I go past a certain point. Still, I’m determined to slowly make progress, since we’re talking about my potential for future movement here. To that end, I’m also not letting myself “cheat” on the stairs, as in only using my good leg to push myself up. Rather, I’m doing things like I normally would.

Push with my right leg, push with my left leg (say a curse word).
Push with my right leg, push with my left leg (say a curse word).

Even with limited range of motion and trepidation in my steps, having both my legs back is a game changer. Part of me wishes I’d known to “take up thy bed and walk” sooner, but this way I have a greater appreciation for all the “simple” things I took for granted before. Things like being able to get up and get myself a glass of water, do my own laundry, or even take a shower without sitting down or having to tie the handheld sprayer to an overhead mirror with the strap of a fluffy scubby thingy. (See picture below.)

Today is a day for hoping.

The way I’m thinking about my severing my ACL is the way I’m thinking about my cutting the drawstring in my athletic shorts this evening. All good things must come to an end. (It was nice knowing you.) This moment is my new normal. And whereas part of me is fearful (I’ve been afraid to put weight on my leg for the last two weeks), another part is hopeful. Even confident. While driving home from the surgeon’s office, it was weird, it was like I could hear my leg talking to me. Not out loud of course, but our bodies are alive and our cells are conscious, so why couldn’t they talk to us? Anyway, I felt like mine was saying, “We can do this. We can support you.” This is huge, the idea that my body and I are working together here, that we’re stronger than I previously believed, and that our future looks bright.

Yes, today is a day for hoping.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Your life is a mystery. But you can relax. It’s not your job to solve it.

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On Being Disrupted (Blog #623)

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After twelve days of being on crutches, I’m officially over this one-legged life. Granted, at my parents’ house, it hasn’t been that bad; they’ve been awesome about helping me out. Dad, will you bring me breakfast? Mom, will you plug in my phone? But now that I’m house sitting for some friends, I’m all alone and have to do everything for myself. (Harrumph.) And whereas it’s going well–last night I managed to successfully get into and out of their hot tub AND shower AND navigate their stairs–everything from bringing in the morning paper to transporting my coffee cup from the counter to the kitchen table is a big damn effort. You should have seen me moving their trash can from the street to their garage this afternoon.

Hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.

This afternoon I went to the hospital to get a copy of the MRI I had done earlier this week on my knee. This should probably be a daily requirement for me, to get out of the house, since it forces me to get dressed, interact with others, and not feel sorry for myself. And y’all, interacting with others is EASY when you’re on crutches that have been decorated with holiday tinsel. (The ones in the photo above are the ones I use INSIDE, since the decorated ones are kind of “messy.”) But seriously, all sorts of strangers talked to me today. Oh, I love your crutches. How festive! Now THAT’S making the best of a bad situation.

That’s me–always looking on the bright side.

Along with the MRI images (which came on a CD), I got a copy of the radiologist’s report, which described my ACL has having been “disrupted.” I assume this is the medical term for “fucked up,” and a quick Google search seems to confirm this. When I first read the report, I thought, Oh good, that’s better than a tear, but no–I don’t think so now. Disruption is apparently a serious separation. Like, think earthquake.

Think my life.

Here’s a random picture from the MRI images. Naturally, I have no idea what I’m looking at here, other than some part of my knee. But I picked this image to share because I think it looks like the face of an old man–see the two eyeballs? Also, I think it looks like something from outer space, like two black holes, an entire mysterious universe just below my left thigh. Granted, it’s an entire universe that’s currently–um–disrupted, but hopefully we can get things put back together soon.

Fingers crossed.

Another thing the report said was that I’d been experiencing constant pain since the time of my injury. This isn’t true at all, and I assume it’s just a medical “hiccup.” My chart at my primary care physician’s says I have “anxiety” even though I don’t, I guess because I see a therapist. Oh well, shit happens. But my point is–yippee–I haven’t actually been in pain. All this disruption, and yet it’s not AWFUL. Granted, it’s inconvenient, and earlier when I misstepped on the stairs and came “this close” to tumbling all the way down, it was terrifying. But mostly this ordeal is simply causing me to slow down, take better care of myself, and reconnect with the good humans around me (and that includes my parents). And that’s a good thing.

To be clear, I’m worn out by this disruption. The last fourteen months have been FILLED with sickness and disappointment, and my knee injury is just one more thing. But I do feel supported–if not by my leg, by my friends, family, and my therapist. The last time my therapist and I talked, she said, “Everyone who goes through this process of personal and spiritual growth walks through hell–and by that I mean every circle of Dante’s Inferno. But the reward for walking through hell is a level of generalized contentment that most people never experience.” And whereas I have some proof of this being true based on my personal experience, I’m largely trusting her experience that things are going to get better. (She hasn’t steered me wrong yet.) This, I think, is a reason to keep going, the idea that entire universes may fall apart, but they can also come back together again. Perhaps even better than before.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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It's never a small thing to open your home or heart to another person.

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Does Someone Up There Have a Bet Going? (Blog #620)

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For the last few days I’ve been struggling to use my blog editing software, which recently updated itself without asking me first. (How rude.) And whereas I was starting to understand it, it wasn’t playing nice with my “preview pictures,” the smaller-sized versions of each blog’s main photo that are used for the “related posts” section on my site. (Found at the bottom of each individual post, the “related posts” section recommends three–um–related posts). Anyway, when I noticed last night that a particular preview picture wasn’t being generated, it frustrated me to no end. So earlier I figured out a workaround, then later figured out how to get all my pictures, quotes, and everything else back to the way they’ve been for the last two years.

Up next: an explanation.

My blogging site’s new editing software is called Gutenberg, probably named after the man who invented the printing press. Regardless, I guess the people who invented Gutenberg saw this problem coming, curmudgeons like me getting frustrated by changes, so they created an option to blog using the “Classic Editor.” That’s the one I’m using now. Doesn’t that have a nice ring to it–classic? Almost makes me forget I’m a pissed off old fart with his arms folded across his chest who’s refusing to do things differently than he always has.

Classic: another word for set in your ways.

I’m telling myself it’s not that I absolutely won’t learn new things. I will. But these new things need to work at least as well as the old things did, or I’m out. (Done. Check please.) Ugh. I really didn’t intend to bitch for 250 words about this situation. The truth is I’m frustrated with my body. Earlier this year I battled a skin rash (where nobody wants a skin rash), but it’s been under control for months now. Then this morning–out of the not-so-clear blue sky, it showed back up. Maybe because since injuring my knee I’ve been showering in my parents’ bathroom and using a different soap. That’s the best theory my team of doctors came up with the first time, that it was an allergic reaction. “An inflammation whose cause is unknown” is what the lab report said. Anyway, it’s not pleasant. I feel like I have an entire extended family of mosquitoes living inside my pants.

I’m glad we can talk about these things.

As if that weren’t enough, this afternoon I got an MRI of my knee, my first MRI ever. Y’all, that machine was SO FRICKING LOUD. It sounded like a woodpecker using a jack hammer combined with that awful screeching noise used in Psycho when Anthony Perkins stabs Janet Leigh to death in the shower. Even with earplugs in, all I could hear was THUD-THUD-THUD-REEK-REEK-REEK for twenty minutes straight.

It was not relaxing.

That being said, the MRI itself went well. “We got really good pictures,” the technician told me. But lest this post start to sound too cherry, let’s get back to the bad news, which my doctor called me with this evening. In short, I tore my ACL and lateral meniscus, which explains why my leg currently has all the inner strength of a blob of apricot jelly. (That is to say, I can’t stand on the damn thing.) Anyway, my doctor said that ACL tears are pretty common in sports (like dancing), and that mine can be repaired (with surgery), but will require “harvesting” ligaments (I think that’s what he said) from my hamstring. Harvesting–can you believe that’s an actual medical term? Sounds like something you should be doing in September in Iowa–gathering in the corn. Except in this situation, they’ll be gathering in my body parts.

Talk about macabre.

In terms of my lateral meniscus, my doctor said they don’t repair well, so he’ll probably end up shaving off the damaged section. (Doesn’t that sound pleasant?) I can’t tell you how disheartening all this is. Not that I haven’t been assuming I’d need surgery, but there’s something about hearing your doctor say it, about being told you’ll be in a big, awkward brace for six weeks, will be in some sort of brace or another for an entire year (an entire year!), and won’t be able to dance for three months.

As of now, surgery hasn’t been scheduled, but my attitude is “let’s do this.” Not that I’m looking forward to it–I’m not–but the sooner we get this ball rolling, the sooner it’s all behind me. Shit. I’m really in a state of disbelief. My stomach’s upset (it has been for months), my skin’s irritated and inflamed, and now this nonsense with my leg (which, by the way, I use to make a living). What else can go wrong? Don’t answer that.

I know, things could always be worse. I’m not alone. Plenty of people have upset stomachs, irritated skin, and knee caps that function like Slinkys. But seriously–God, life, the universe–something needs to give. Yesterday I said the juice was worth the squeeze, but I didn’t mean squeeze harder. I’m up for learning through suffering and all–I get that’s a thing down here–but back off a little. (Pretty please?) I mean, if I accidentally signed up for the advanced course before incarnating, I apologize. That was a mistake. I take it back. From now on, if you don’t mind, I’d like my “tests” a bit more spread out. Just one exam a semester should work, thank you.

Life sucks until it’s finished sucking.

I know life doesn’t work this way. Sure, you can ask the heavens to back off, but you see how well that worked for Job. In other words, sometimes life sucks, it sucks hard, and it sucks hard until it’s finished sucking. And good luck ever getting an explanation. It’s not like the deity ever bothered telling Job, “You see, I had this wager–.”  And even if he had told him, it’s not like that tidbit of information would have made Job feel any better about losing–um–everything he ever loved. It’s not like, after being told that he was the subject of a big cosmic crap game, he would have scraped a piece of broken pottery across his leprosy boils and said, “Makes sense to me, God; feel free to double down next time!” No, explanations don’t help us when we’re suffering. Nor do we get to boss the heavens about or decide when we’re “done.” What we can do, however, is pray for the grace to accept this moment for what it is. For in acceptance, it seems, there’s relief.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Better that you're true to yourself and the whole world be disappointed than to change who you are and the whole world be satisfied.

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The Ones We Admire (Blog #618)

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I swear. This new blog editing software is driving me crazy. (My dad says it’s a short trip. Everyone’s a comedian.) But seriously. Yesterday I couldn’t find the spell checker, and now I’m typing NEXT to my daily selfie instead of UNDER it.

Technology is so hard. (Okay, I figured it out.)

Something else that’s hard is living life on one leg, which I’ve been doing for a solid week now, ever since I injured my left knee during a dance performance. No shit. Everything that I used to do so easily–like putting on my underwear, tying my shoes, and going to the bathroom–now requires a five-step plan. Earlier I hobbled into the kitchen to refill my cup of coffee and literally had to strategize about how to get it back to the living room, since I couldn’t exactly use my walker and hold onto my beverage at the same time. Well, I ended up scooting the drink on the counter beside me until I made it out of the kitchen, then stood between the counter and an end table and passed the cup from one hand to the other, then REEEEEA-CHED for the edge of the table. Thankfully, this worked.

The things we do for caffeine.

Earlier today I stumbled across an internet article about a guy who lost his left leg to cancer when he was nine and now creates funny Halloween costumes around the whole situation. I guess it all started as a joke several years ago when he decided to be a gingerbread man whose leg had been “bitten” off. Anyway, what a fabulous reminder that you can make the best of a bad situation. And obviously we humans can learn to adapt. This guy seems to get around fabulously and can even balance himself upside down on his crutches. (Don’t worry, Mom, I’m not going to try anything stupid.)

Despite this inspiration, I don’t mind saying that having a bum leg is a serious drag. (Get it–a serious DRAG?) Even before this accident, for weeks, I haven’t taught a single dance lesson and have been strapped for cash. Then today–out of the blue–a woman calls and says she’s interested in learning to jitterbug. Ever the optimist, I thought, Surely I could TALK her and her husband through learning at least the basics. But then–with actual enthusiasm–she said, “I don’t have a partner!” Normally this wouldn’t be a problem–I could dance with her–but in my current condition, there’s no way in hell. Geez. The universe can be a real bastard sometimes. Who dangles the proverbial carrot in front of someone while knowing full well there’s NO WAY they can even come close to taking a bite of it?

Talk about a twisted sense of humor.

Speaking of a twisted sense of humor, last night’s holiday variety show at the little theater went–uh–okay, at least with respect to our musical improv number. Personally, I think the night before went better. But these things happens. “What’s a place that puts you in the holiday spirit?” we always ask at the beginning of the show. Well get this shit. Last night some broad says, “Sea World!” The night before someone said, “Walmart.” (What the hell is wrong with people?) Anyway, last night we sang about Christmas at Sea World, and it was–um–challenging. That being said, one guy in our group (not me) absolutely saved us with his last verse about Orca Whales. (Phew.)

This is the deal with improv comedy. Sometimes you do something good (fabulous even), sometimes you do something mediocre, and sometimes you flop. I guess the important thing is to try, to put yourself out there. The guy in our group who saved us was literally flopping around on stage like a whale, and it was a smash. Later he said, “I’m just not afraid of being embarrassed.” No kidding, this is the secret to good comedy. Maybe to life. You gotta be willing to put yourself out there. In my second improv skit, my partner pretended to be a drunk woman at a holiday office party, and the next thing I knew he was diving through an invisible laminating machine. It was hilarious.

Maybe you would have had to have been there.

These, I think, are the ones we admire, the ones we stand in awe of from a distance, the ones who are willing to dare and live fully in the moment. Yesterday on the way home from the theater, I was thinking about how much grief I’ve given my body over the years, mostly for not looking like HIS. So much time I’ve spent being disappointed in a perfectly good body–a body that had two working legs!–legs that carried me anywhere I wanted to go, legs that danced, and legs that gave, and gave, and gave. Talk about not being on your own team. Anyway, now one of my legs is asking for a break (no pun intended), so I’m doing my best to finally listen to my body, give it time to heal, and appreciate it for what it is and what it CAN do. Hopefully, we’ll come through this situation less embarrassed, more willing to live each moment as fully as possible, together.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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When we expect great things, we see great things.

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On Improv-ing and Improving (Blog #617)

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What the frick? Apparently my online blog editing software has been updated and is now different than it’s been for the last two years. Ugh. So far I’m not impressed, having to learn new things for Christmas. Seriously, nothing is where it used to be. It’s like someone’s rearranged my entire bedroom. Whose bright idea was this? (I can’t find my underwear!) And where the hell did the spell checker go?

Bah humbug!

Okay. This morning I went to see my primary care physician, and I’m guess I’m a little upset about that. Not that the visit didn’t go well–my doctor is awesome. But she looked at my recently injured knee and started talking about surgery and rehab, so it looks like that’s going to be a thing. And whereas I’ve been assuming it would be, there’s just something about hearing someone in a white lab coat say so.

Like, “Better get used to those crutches, kid.”

In other personal medical news, I’ve been short of breath lately, and my doctor mentioned the word “asthma.” Seriously, is this what growing older is about–daily adding to your number of problems? One day you’re fine and the next you have a list of ailments as long as your arm? (Don’t answer that.) Anyway, I took a (short) breath, then my doctor said, “WELL–since this started AFTER your upset stomach [another problem of mine], it’s possible that the two things are tied together; your reflux could be affecting your airways.”

So that sounds–um–promising.

In other news, I may have psoriasis–but only on one elbow!–and it would probably help my stomach if I started a new diet. Ugh. This sounds like a lot of work. I mean, when you hop around on one leg, you eat what anyone (that is, your parents) are willing to feed you. Anyway, I’m telling myself I don’t have to do anything this red hot minute; I have time to figure things out. Plus, my doctor said people usually fall into one of two categories–healthy or not-healthy (there’s no real middle ground, she said), and being healthy is simply about 1) not smoking, 2) getting enough rest, 3) eating more greens and less processed foods, and 4) exercising. “That sounds simple enough,” I said.

“In theory it is,” she said, “but we live in a world where there are Whataburgers.”

So you know what I immediately started craving for lunch.

Okay, phew. I apparently “found” the spell checker when I typed “Whataburgers.” It’s invisible. That is, there’s no button for it because it’s always on.

Like me. (Ba-dum.)

When I got home from the doctor’s, I took a nap, but it didn’t do anything to improve my mood. I just can’t even right now. (Wake me up when December ends.)

Now it’s five in the evening, and I need to eat dinner and get around to go to the Fort Smith Little Theater. Last night was opening night for our holiday variety show, and everything went really well, including the two improv skits I was in.

Here’s a link to the first skit, a musical improv number that involved everyone in the pictures I’ve included in tonight’s blog. (The pictures were from dress rehearsal a couple nights ago.) The skit has it’s highs and lows, which is the case when you’re making stuff up on the spot (all of us) and don’t fancy yourself a singer (me). That being said, I’m super proud of the first “mini-skit,” which involves me and a high school student I’d never worked with one-on-one before last night. The setup is we’re at Walmart for Christmas, and he decides we’ll be father and son. (Guess who the father was.) He starts by saying, “Dad, how long are we going to be here?!” and I say, “Well, we’ve been here for six hours, and we’re halfway through the line–you do the math.” So he starts doing the human calculator thing–“6 times 24, carry the 2, divide by 12” and keeps scratching his head. Finally I look at him and say, “This is why we don’t have a bumper sticker about you on the back of our car.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TKpVGSX5rWM

We’ll see how things go tonight. In last night’s second improv number, my friend Wesley and I were pretending to be siblings outside in the snow, and we were “filling in” our lines with random Christmas carol lyrics we pulled out of our pockets. At one point I got mad and said, “Do you know what I’m gonna do?” and pulled out a slip of paper that said, “Santa Baby.” Well, it took a second, but the audience just died laughing, at which point Wesley said, “I guess we all have our preferences!”

Having been asked to keep the show PG, I wasn’t sure if we’d crossed a line. But what do you do in a moment like that–how could it have been avoided, exactly? Plus, considering the fact that my mom didn’t “get it” when I told her about it later, it’s not like a kid in the audience would have “gone there.” But this is my point–there are certain things in life that you can’t prepare for. Words come out of your mouth, and problems show up in your body just like that. So we do the best we can. We improv. With any luck, we IMPROVE.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We always have more support than we realize.

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On Moving Forward (Blog #615)

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[Photo credit: Joel Culberson]

This afternoon I took a shower and put on a pair of stretchy jeans. I normally wouldn’t brag about such things, but after injuring my knee this last weekend, both showering and dressing myself have become activities worthy of praise. (Way to go, Marcus!) No kidding, it’s hard enough to squeeze myself into my jeans standing up, let alone lying on the ground while trying to hold my left leg completely still. And you should have seen me trying to put on my dress shoes; I had to get my dad involved. “Don’t you have a shoe horn?!” he said.

“No I don’t have shoe horn; I’m not eighty!”

Anyway, Dad ended up slipping my shoes on with a spoon he found–I assume–in our dishwasher. Talk about being creative AND helpful. That being said, I know my dependence is wearing on both me and my parents. After I got dressed and got into my car to run errands in Fort Smith, I honked my horn because I remembered I’d forgotten to brush my teeth and was hoping Dad could bring me my toothbrush–and toothpaste–and maybe a glass of water. (Getting out of car and crutching my way to bathroom would have taken forever.) Anyway, when Dad came into the garage and I told him what as going on, he said, “Oh no you didn’t forget to brush your teeth–your teeth are just fine–they’re very pretty.”

But then he went inside and brought me my toothbrush and toothpaste, and Mom brought the glass of water. What a team!

This afternoon my friend Bonnie and I went to four different stores in search of an outfit for me to wear for the holiday production I’m in at the Fort Smith Little Theater this week, since I decided I felt “frumpy” in the elf costume the theater gave me a couple days ago. Y’all, this is not an experience I care to repeat on crutches ever again–getting in and out of the car, going from store to store, perusing up and down the aisles. Seriously, I’m ready for this ordeal to be over. Ugh. My parents reminded me that when my sister hurt her knee and had to have surgery (and go through physical rehab), they lived with and helped her out for nine weeks. Nine weeks! I’m trying to let that possibility sink in. “Just be grateful you don’t have two little kids running around,” Mom said.

“Yes, that would be quite the challenge,” I replied. “Thank you for making me gay.”

At our third stop, Bonnie and I found an ugly Christmas sweater for me, and at our fourth stop, we found red and silver tinsel (and other supplies) for decorating my crutches. This was Bonnie’s idea, to make my crutches part of my holiday costume. “They can be your candy CANES,” Bonnie said. Talk about clever. Anyway, then we went back to Bonnie’s house, and I changed shirts (and put on a holiday hat that Bonnie had), then Bonnie and I wrapped my crutches in tinsel and added a stocking to one crutch and a stuffed elf to the other. Check out the finished products. (I’m in love.)

As I’m only in two skits for the show, I spent most of my time at the theater tonight on a couch in the green room with my leg propped up. While waiting for my first skit, I got a text message from a friend who’d heard about my dance injury, and he suggested a new nickname for me–GRACE. Isn’t that perfect? Anyway, tonight’s show was a dress rehearsal, and it went well. Actually, our musical improv group did as well as ever. Maybe a few dozen people were there as a test audience, and it really made the biggest difference, having that added bit of pressure.

[Photo credit: Joel Culberson]

Now it’s almost midnight, and I’m in the living room with Mom and Dad. Earlier they made me dinner, helped me get my shoes off, and brought me some ice packs. Also, they switched out my tinsel-clad crutches for a walker so I don’t spread little strips of glitter all over the house. A walker! Now I really feel like an old person. (I should probably just break down and buy that shoehorn.)

So this is my reality. This is my holiday season. Mostly likely, this is my new year. And whereas I hate having lost my normal mobility, I’ve realized that I’ve taken “two working knees” for granted my entire life. Watching people run around the shops and the theater tonight, I thought, You probably have no idea how good you’ve got it. Or maybe they do. One of my friends at the theater tonight said she’s been on crutches A NUMBER of times. For me, I’m reminded how persistent the human spirit is, since it’s willing to crawl, scoot, crutch, or even walker around in order to get from here to there. To buy an ugly Christmas sweater! I guess we all do what we must in order to keep moving forward. Hopefully we do so with grace.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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All things become ripe when they’re ready.

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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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We’re all made of the same stuff.

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And Now for My Next Trick (Blog #612)

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After injuring my knee yesterday while performing a dance routine, I spent last night in my mom’s recliner. Since I tend to toss and turn in the middle of the night, I was afraid I’d make things worse if I were in my bed. Plus, my bed’s a waterbed, and I imagined getting in and out of it wouldn’t be the easiest thing in the world. Ugh, it’s amazing what you take for granted when you’re well and healthy. Last night and today my parents have had to do everything for me–get me my toothbrush and medications, plug in my phone and laptop, hand me my pillows, make my breakfast. And whereas I did manage to dress myself for the day, I had to lie down on the floor to do so, and my parents had to tie my shoes.

This afternoon, with the aid of crutches I borrowed from my aunt, I made my way to The Fort Smith Little Theater to rehearse for an upcoming holiday variety show that I committed to being in a few weeks ago. And whereas the original plan was for the entire improv comedy group I’m in to perform in the show, it ended up being just me. So today I joined with several junior high and high school students to prepare for a musical improv sketch–you know, the kind where we sing songs about random situations the audience suggests. Anyway, other than my having to sit for most of the rehearsal, or simply stand there on crutches while the others danced about, it was great fun. Not only did I learn some new things (I’ve never done MUSICAL improv before), it was good to get out of the house and be around the young and vivacious.

That being said, I kept looking at those teenagers thinking, Be CAREFUL with your legs! Don’t take your knees for granted!

After working at the theater, I drove to a friend’s house in Fort Smith to pick up another pair of crutches, since the ones I got from my aunt were a couple inches too short for me. My friend’s husband handed me the crutches and said, “And now for my next trick!” Hum. I’m not sure if that’s as funny on paper as it was in person, but it really did make me laugh out loud. I got this image of me about to do the stunt I did last night and saying, “Hey, y’all, watch this.” Whatever. As I told someone at the theater today, the part where I jumped over my friend’s head went really well, I just didn’t stick the landing.

This evening I’ve been planted in a comfy chair in the corner of our living room with my legs propped up on an ottoman. Mostly I’ve been scrolling through social media or reading a book. I think I fell asleep at one point. I really haven’t felt that great today. I’ve been tired, worn out, and slightly nauseated. Emotionally, I keep bouncing back and forth between Everything will be all right and If one more frickin’ thing goes wrong, I’m going to absolutely snap. In this moment, I’m leaning toward the second viewpoint, and I’m okay with that. What I mean is that so often when life throws me a curve ball, I immediately put up my defenses and formulate “a plan.” For instance, in my current situation I’m already thinking about going to doctors, doing physical rehab, and coming out of this thing “better than ever.” But THAT thought is honestly more exhausting than my knee injury, and what actually feels good in this moment is to simply sit with this feeling of overwhelm, to really get okay with not being in control or having all the answers.

But back to the theater. Improv comedy is hard enough, but musical improv is even harder. I mean, you’ve got this guy playing the piano, and when it’s your time to make up a verse, you really can’t stall for more than four bars. If you do, it gets awkward. But the advice that was given to us today was 1) your verses don’t HAVE to rhyme and 2) if you can’t come up with a good story, just state the facts. For example, we sang a song about stars, so my “just the facts, ma’am” verse went like this: “Stars are bright / Stars do twinkle / Stars are far, far away / They make me smile.” My point is that often I try to take my difficult circumstances and turn them into poetry, like this isn’t so bad because look at what I learned. However, sometimes this is simply too difficult to do, especially when the shit has seriously hit the fan within the last twenty-four hours.

So if I were to sing a song about what’s going on with my leg, my first verse would go–

My body’s tired
My knee is throbbing
I’m oh-so-very frustrated
I feel like I could cry (if only I knew how)

Then the chorus would go–

This camel’s back is broken
This camel’s back is broken
This camel’s back is broken
No more straws for me

I know this “woe-is-me” tune isn’t profound, but as our musical improv teacher said, “It’s the truth, and the truth is interesting, compelling, and beautiful, and it certainly gets the job done.” That is, saying something simple yet truthful is better than standing there with your thumb up your butt and not saying (or singing) anything at all. Of course, staying silent is tempting; it’s terrifying to create on the fly, to have NO IDEA what’s going to come out of your mouth at the moment you open it. But that’s the darling thing about improv. Sometimes you hit on something really lovely. So I’m trying to remember this, that I don’t have to have a plan for healing (or even my life), that I don’t have to know what my next trick will be. Rather, I can simply start with the facts–I’m hurting, I’m overwhelmed–and see where this truth takes me and how it sets me free.

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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