So I have been monitoring myself a little closer these days, all in an effort to develop a better feel for how I am doing. It has been a radical shift from simply disregarding things that affect me on an ongoing basis. I believe I haven’t bothered cataloging the list of pains and aches I experience on a daily basis, simply because it would be a continuous exercise.
I find it immeasurably hard to break myself of this habit of ignoring what ails me. My character is such that when confronted with adversity, the reflex is to just push through it. Military training demanded it. Discomfort? Fatigue? Push through it… be a man… grow a pair… suck it up… show some intestinal fortitude… don’t wimp out… keep up the side… don’t let us down… if this was easy, civilians could do it… we’re counting on you…
So bearing in mind the era where I grew up, the social conventions of the time and the stereotypes we were bombarded with, coupled with 21 years of military service, it is not surprising in the least that I have trouble at times separating ‘the myth from the man’. I think the key word here is going to be honesty. To be honest with myself. That I am perhaps tired of carrying around this mantle of seeming-invincibility. That there are many times where I find myself reflecting on how much these recent events have exacted from me. That try as I might, I will never recover that physical person that I was.
I know I have no other option but to come to terms with this new reality. But I can also try to appreciate and fully understand the ramifications of all this. There has yet to be a night where shifting my position in bed has not caused me pain of some sort. I cannot lie on one side for too long, lest the building discomfort wake me up. So I spend most nights shifting from one side to the other. There has yet to be a day when I can walk without getting grief from either my legs, my hips, my knees or my ankles. When it comes to climbing or descending stairs, it is always done slowly, with great deliberation and trepidation. I still harbor this unreasoning dread (to me…) of falling. My knees and hips are normally the most affected by this particular exercise.
As for my right hand which was broken, it has become a prognosticator of weather patterns, thanks to arthritis which invariably turns up as the weather changes. Still, it is usable so there’s always that. The left side of my body remains very much the worse affected part of me, however. My shoulder and arm provide a constant source of pain and discomfort and together with my left leg, the greatest of my limitations. This current status has been described by many medical professionals, as something which will not resolve itself over time. So that is the upshot of it…
I have come to terms with these facts, yes. But I have also come to terms with the fact that it is okay for me to feel, own and process whatever emotions I might experience as a result of all this. Yes, it’s okay for me to feel sad and disheartened at times. It is okay for me to feel angered and resentful that I have had, that we have had to live through this. I am purposefully refraining from commenting on the utter financial chaos that being off work for well over a year has occasioned. It’s okay for me to feel frustrated and vengeful about how our lives have been forever changed, simply because of a lack of attention, of boneheaded stupidity on the part of a total stranger. It’s also more than okay if I sometimes admit to being no more than a simple man, who at times feels all too frail and unsure as to whether he can cope with these changes in his life.
I don’t mean to sound melodramatic here, but until recently I was of the opinion that I could just bluff my way through the bad days. Put up a brave front, pretend that none of this could or was getting me down. I of course have been doing this for the sake of those around me, those outside the actual theatre of events. “Don’t concern yourselves about me… nothing to see here…”. Yet this was always done at the expense of my own feelings and emotions. I was constantly forcing myself to suppress how I was really feeling, in order to reassure others. Or maybe it was just to avoid boring the Hell out of them. Let’s face it, who wants to hear about another person’s problems…? I don’t know why I felt this compunction to do this, I just do. But again, it’s something I’m working on.
I can tell that all this is taking its toll on me. This last week I have been totally devoid of energy. It’s like I’m running out of gas. I’m no different than many other people, I reckon. I could really use some time off but can’t quite afford the time off. I’d love to take a vacation somewhere, but can’t afford the travel. So we live for better days, making the best of each of our present ones in the meantime. I remain a somewhat incurable optimist, but one who has finally embraced his right to care for himself and embrace his own emotions. For good or ill…
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