One Saturday, we drove to our favorite fruit market to get the last of our jams done. With an entire bushel and a half of freestone peaches and 15 quarts of fresh strawberries in the back of the truck, we'd stopped at a hardware store for a last-moment jar purchase. We were nearly sure we had enough jars for the jam, but this particular location always had the same style jar we use and a few more wouldn’t hurt.
It was a warm summer day and I was glad to be wearing my flip-flops and sunglasses as I looped the bags with jars around my left arm and slung my purse over my right. I strode out the door while The Awesome Boyfriend was somewhat ahead of me – readying to open the truck door to stash the last of our required supplies.
My right foot dragged? Or caught the edge of the concrete landing outside the doors? Or scuffed on *something* and I went down. The Awesome Boyfriend turned as he heard me but by the time he started back to help, I was already flat on the ground. My legs and knees were slightly bent to the left, my arms were on either side of my body (not ahead of me to break my fall), and my purse and the jars were, luckily, far away from my face. My chin was flat against the ground as I said my first word … “ow”. The second words were “oh crap the jars.” (No one can tell me I’m not focused on what’s important!)
My left knee got most of my weight so it bruised up nicely and my chin was, of course, quite blackened (and stayed that way for more than a week). My pride and bravado was what took the biggest hit and I know what The Awesome Boyfriend and I were both thinking as we walked slowly to the truck. Sure, I’ve ALWAYS been klutzy but … the connection was too easy to make. I didn’t start crying until my passenger door was closed … and it was the first time I think I shared exactly how scared I really was.
*****************
And you would THINK that would be enough of a wake-up call, right? But when it really struck me was during a conversation I had with a dear friend I used to work with. He was helping me arrange for a birthday gift for my mom from a West-Coast artist and called on a Wednesday evening to say everything was under control and the piece (a painting) was nearly done. And then he said “hey – remember when we had lunch while you two were out here? Please don’t be upset … but I noticed something and it scared me and …” As it turned out, I wasn't as good at hiding my "personal earthquakes" as I thought I'd been.
His timing was incredible - my first appointment in meeting my new GP was the next morning.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
The November Chronicles
I've had my arm shake for ... well ... ... let's just say for far, farrrrr too long. If I were being very honest with myself, it was very slightly shaking upon occasion when I was doing my Katrina recovery, but I always figured I was just working new muscles and it was easy to shrug off.
It's funny what we as humans will put off - either because it isn't "big enough" to bother with making an appointment, or because we're not sure of how to describe it if we WERE to make an appointment, or - at times - because if we make the appointment, we're admitting that there is something amiss.
And I've had bigger fish to fry - medically, physically, and emotionally. Adding to the stress was my extended joblessness, which brought about my feeling as though I was yet one more burden for The Awesome Boyfriend to care for, and the near constant interview process where I honestly stopped believing I had enough to offer an employer.
Not wanting to add to anyone’s load, I kept most of my concerns and feelings of not measuring up to myself – which I readily admit added to my self-induced stress level. Some days it took a WHOLE lot of energy to stay positive … and, while to the casual observer it may have appeared that I wasn’t doing anything to warrant being tired, there were certainly days where I was exhausted and grateful to finally just go to bed.
*****************
For awhile, when my arm would shake, I could shove it down to the right side of my body and kinda sit on my hand. This would enable me to ignore it and – even more important – it would prevent it from being noticed by anyone else, too. I found LOTS of ways to ensure my shaking would be ignored – writing personal checks alone at the kitchen table and allowing myself about 8 minutes per check, typing notes and printing them on paper to insert into cards sent to friends, saying I was cold or tired, holding something in my hand (like a pencil) and purposely “bouncing” it … oh, I was clever.
Eventually though The Awesome Boyfriend started asking me questions – “how is your balance?" and "do you walk with a strange gait?" or "do you swing your arms evenly?” I’m not a mental midget … I knew what he was asking. Those are Parkinson’s indicators … he was testing me for Parkinson’s. As a Research Scientist with many years of medical school swirling about in his head, it’s his very nature to ask for reasons behind certain behaviors – but there were days when I made it quite clear I was not his research project. I knew his concern came from a good place in his heart but … denial, she is a seriously righteous bitch.
As for noticing these things myself, I can only say this: Clear your mind. Take a deep breath. Don't think about ice cubes. So - quick - the image in your head right now is of an ice cube right? Of course it is! You can't test yourself to see if you swing your arms normally because the minute you think "I need to walk from this parking space to the store. Let's see how my arms swing", I promise you the test is ruined. You have to have someone else observe you walking ... but you can't KNOW they're observing you. Our brains are kinda nutso that way.
*****************
Finally I found a job, so I began the task of having my (considerably large) medical records transferred. This took a lot of forms and a lot of writing by hand – something I was embarrassed to admit was becoming more difficult with each passing month. It was a dance, really ... hold the pen with my writing hand (my right) but guide the movements with my left. When the shaking got too bad, stop and walk away. Repeat as often as needed until task was completed.
I decided that when I was finally officially transferred to my new health care provider, I’d make an appointment to be seen about my own “personal earthquakes”. (I’d taken to calling them this because it sounded funny, and I figured that something that sounded funny couldn’t be all that serious.) I wasn't wrong when I figured that process would take months. So more time rolled by ... but since I didn't know where to start with this problem, that was alright with me.
On the job, I told myself I couldn’t ask for medical time so early in a new working environment. And then the job got super busy so I couldn’t do it then. Next The Awesome Boyfriend and I were traveling to the mid-West, so I didn’t wanna wreck that trip with stupid medical stuff. Whoops – now we were headed to the West Coast to visit family and friends ... yeeeeeah, I had all kinds of reasons why I couldn’t make that appointment.
*****************
While we were having lunch with my parents on my birthday, my mother said “so are you going through some kind of withdrawal here or what?” (My mom and I … we’re a lot alike.) I explained that I was gonna get it looked at blah blah blah and waived it off, as I’d grown accustomed to doing. As we left for home at the end of our visit, my mom looked me straight in the eye and said “do something about that.”
I’d been given my orders.
So we arrived home and I surveyed our Summer plans … lots of “jam” weekends, trips to favorite restaurants that were just overnight treks, quiet times on the job … I guessed it was time. In the middle of July, I checked out available appointments … and I picked the furthest one out I could find. (I’m not stubborn – I’m Irish.) So at least now, when asked “hey – what’s with your arm?”, I could honestly reply that I had an appointment to get it looked at.
With the designated time and date looming, I’d already told The Awesome Boyfriend that I wasn’t going to let him know when my appointment was – he was already concerned, there was no reason to have him extra anxious on a specific date for no real reason. We started with our jams and our reservations and enjoyed the warm, Summer days.
It's funny what we as humans will put off - either because it isn't "big enough" to bother with making an appointment, or because we're not sure of how to describe it if we WERE to make an appointment, or - at times - because if we make the appointment, we're admitting that there is something amiss.
And I've had bigger fish to fry - medically, physically, and emotionally. Adding to the stress was my extended joblessness, which brought about my feeling as though I was yet one more burden for The Awesome Boyfriend to care for, and the near constant interview process where I honestly stopped believing I had enough to offer an employer.
Not wanting to add to anyone’s load, I kept most of my concerns and feelings of not measuring up to myself – which I readily admit added to my self-induced stress level. Some days it took a WHOLE lot of energy to stay positive … and, while to the casual observer it may have appeared that I wasn’t doing anything to warrant being tired, there were certainly days where I was exhausted and grateful to finally just go to bed.
*****************
For awhile, when my arm would shake, I could shove it down to the right side of my body and kinda sit on my hand. This would enable me to ignore it and – even more important – it would prevent it from being noticed by anyone else, too. I found LOTS of ways to ensure my shaking would be ignored – writing personal checks alone at the kitchen table and allowing myself about 8 minutes per check, typing notes and printing them on paper to insert into cards sent to friends, saying I was cold or tired, holding something in my hand (like a pencil) and purposely “bouncing” it … oh, I was clever.
Eventually though The Awesome Boyfriend started asking me questions – “how is your balance?" and "do you walk with a strange gait?" or "do you swing your arms evenly?” I’m not a mental midget … I knew what he was asking. Those are Parkinson’s indicators … he was testing me for Parkinson’s. As a Research Scientist with many years of medical school swirling about in his head, it’s his very nature to ask for reasons behind certain behaviors – but there were days when I made it quite clear I was not his research project. I knew his concern came from a good place in his heart but … denial, she is a seriously righteous bitch.
As for noticing these things myself, I can only say this: Clear your mind. Take a deep breath. Don't think about ice cubes. So - quick - the image in your head right now is of an ice cube right? Of course it is! You can't test yourself to see if you swing your arms normally because the minute you think "I need to walk from this parking space to the store. Let's see how my arms swing", I promise you the test is ruined. You have to have someone else observe you walking ... but you can't KNOW they're observing you. Our brains are kinda nutso that way.
*****************
Finally I found a job, so I began the task of having my (considerably large) medical records transferred. This took a lot of forms and a lot of writing by hand – something I was embarrassed to admit was becoming more difficult with each passing month. It was a dance, really ... hold the pen with my writing hand (my right) but guide the movements with my left. When the shaking got too bad, stop and walk away. Repeat as often as needed until task was completed.
I decided that when I was finally officially transferred to my new health care provider, I’d make an appointment to be seen about my own “personal earthquakes”. (I’d taken to calling them this because it sounded funny, and I figured that something that sounded funny couldn’t be all that serious.) I wasn't wrong when I figured that process would take months. So more time rolled by ... but since I didn't know where to start with this problem, that was alright with me.
On the job, I told myself I couldn’t ask for medical time so early in a new working environment. And then the job got super busy so I couldn’t do it then. Next The Awesome Boyfriend and I were traveling to the mid-West, so I didn’t wanna wreck that trip with stupid medical stuff. Whoops – now we were headed to the West Coast to visit family and friends ... yeeeeeah, I had all kinds of reasons why I couldn’t make that appointment.
*****************
While we were having lunch with my parents on my birthday, my mother said “so are you going through some kind of withdrawal here or what?” (My mom and I … we’re a lot alike.) I explained that I was gonna get it looked at blah blah blah and waived it off, as I’d grown accustomed to doing. As we left for home at the end of our visit, my mom looked me straight in the eye and said “do something about that.”
I’d been given my orders.
So we arrived home and I surveyed our Summer plans … lots of “jam” weekends, trips to favorite restaurants that were just overnight treks, quiet times on the job … I guessed it was time. In the middle of July, I checked out available appointments … and I picked the furthest one out I could find. (I’m not stubborn – I’m Irish.) So at least now, when asked “hey – what’s with your arm?”, I could honestly reply that I had an appointment to get it looked at.
With the designated time and date looming, I’d already told The Awesome Boyfriend that I wasn’t going to let him know when my appointment was – he was already concerned, there was no reason to have him extra anxious on a specific date for no real reason. We started with our jams and our reservations and enjoyed the warm, Summer days.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
The November Chronicles
"Even if something is left undone, everyone must take time to sit still and watch the leaves turn."- Elizabeth Lawrence
*****************
We are a people of "go". "Move". "Achieve". "Complete". Our microwave popcorn takes too damn long to pop and it takes whole minutes to get our morning cup of coffee. Various obstacles get in our way and we go around them ... over them ... through them ... whatever it takes to get THERE.
And, when we arrive THERE? We take stock, see what is next, and continue, which is to say "we go forward". Depending on what we went around, over, or through, we are - at times - observed by other individuals who shake their collective heads and utter words like "strength", "drive", "focus". Which, when one takes a moment to watch the leaves turn, one may recognize as complete drivel.
When someone suffers a loss or experiences a sadness, it's not as though they are given the opportunity to not carry onwards. After several days (or weeks or months) of recovery, we are expected to slip back into routine. Even if that routine is just to recover.
Proof?
Welcomed or not, there was a sunrise all over this planet on September 12th, 2001. And there has been a sunrise every day since, too.
*****************
I have said many times that I never started this ... uhhhh ... well THIS ... for anyone but myself. I've always written - even in fits and spurts. I tried writing stories in high school but nothing all that interesting had happened to me yet.
My high school days are long behind me.
This November, I've decided to write ... as I see fit, and sharing on this rather public space only what I'm comfortable with - protecting what is mine, respecting those on the journey with me, and attempting to define my THERE. I realize that, by my own description as written above, I will fail. My THERE - like everyone else's - moves as rapidly as the second hand on a clock. So it may be more accurate to say that I will reveal my journey thus far.
*****************
Perhaps it all started while I was tearing down an abandoned house in November of 2006 ...
*****************
We are a people of "go". "Move". "Achieve". "Complete". Our microwave popcorn takes too damn long to pop and it takes whole minutes to get our morning cup of coffee. Various obstacles get in our way and we go around them ... over them ... through them ... whatever it takes to get THERE.
And, when we arrive THERE? We take stock, see what is next, and continue, which is to say "we go forward". Depending on what we went around, over, or through, we are - at times - observed by other individuals who shake their collective heads and utter words like "strength", "drive", "focus". Which, when one takes a moment to watch the leaves turn, one may recognize as complete drivel.
When someone suffers a loss or experiences a sadness, it's not as though they are given the opportunity to not carry onwards. After several days (or weeks or months) of recovery, we are expected to slip back into routine. Even if that routine is just to recover.
Proof?
Welcomed or not, there was a sunrise all over this planet on September 12th, 2001. And there has been a sunrise every day since, too.
*****************
I have said many times that I never started this ... uhhhh ... well THIS ... for anyone but myself. I've always written - even in fits and spurts. I tried writing stories in high school but nothing all that interesting had happened to me yet.
My high school days are long behind me.
This November, I've decided to write ... as I see fit, and sharing on this rather public space only what I'm comfortable with - protecting what is mine, respecting those on the journey with me, and attempting to define my THERE. I realize that, by my own description as written above, I will fail. My THERE - like everyone else's - moves as rapidly as the second hand on a clock. So it may be more accurate to say that I will reveal my journey thus far.
*****************
Perhaps it all started while I was tearing down an abandoned house in November of 2006 ...
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