Thursday, April 7, 2022

 Thursday, April 7, 2022

   I slept beautifully last night. Ahh! Nothing is more precious than a good, peaceful night's sleep. I am so lucky to have this gift. Friends of my age complain of insomnia. I suffered from it at 15 after my father's death. That and sciatica are the worst so far in my young life. I am sure life has even better tortures available. I have been spared. With any luck, this will continue until my death. 

    My leg still bothered me this morning on my walk. We had yoga this morning. Everyone had canceled except for Nancy and me. I walked to my place with the help of my walking stick. Right now, I can't take two steps without difficulty. I hadn't had a class since this problem began. Despite the problem, I noticed that my range of motion had increased. That strongly suggested this problem is a result of positive changes. Can my leg recover from that? I worked hard on strengthening my left glutes. My PTs, Katie and Terry, have told me that my left inner thigh muscles are overdeveloped, and my left glutes are under. This is the change I have to make. Am I giving my left inner thigh muscles a choice in making this change? They don't like being awakened after all this time. Change is as hard for our muscles, the very cells of our bodies, as it is for our minds.

   I didn't use the walking stick when Nancy saw me at yoga last week. She asked me what was going on. I detailed all the possibilities. One, the changes I made in my alignment and my walk are challenging my inner thigh muscles. Two: the muscles are in healing mode or are permanently and irreparably damaged. Three: The problem is caused by my arthritic hip. If so, it will be fixed by the surgery. Four: If the problem is caused by sciatica, I will suffer from it after the surgery. 

    Nancy told me that her sister had a failed THR surgery. She had repeated operations. When it was all done, she lost muscle mass in her upper thigh and needed a walker for the rest of her life. That is not comforting information.

    Nancy also commented on Elsa's haircut. I said, "Yes, $100 worth." She said, "Oh, do you know about Ivory?" I had never heard of her, and neither had Yvette. She travels around the island in a trailer fully outfitted for dog grooming and only charges $50. Both Yvette and I were interested.

   Yvette, Nancy, and I all mourned the loss of the groomer we used, Dick, The Dog Groomer. He charged $40 and worked out of a ramshackle hole in the wall. If Mike had seen it, he wouldn't have tolerated my using him. But the Dog Groomer was a love as well as cheap, and he gave good haircuts.  

     I called Paulette after class shortly after 8 am. She was still in bed and said she should be up by 9 am. I could come up for water then. I set my alarm to make sure I left promptly. I like leaving time to visit with her when I get water. I love having an excuse to go up there regularly. I planned to go up there yesterday, but we had a massive downpour. I texted Paulette asking if I couldn't come up today, "I was planning to come up yesterday, but my swimming skills aren't that good." Judy was there too. The three of us spent some time together. 

    I wore a mask while visiting. No one in that family is vaccinated, and at least three people have had it. They all had it before the vaccine was available. Judy had the mildest case but lost her sense of taste for several months. Adam and Jazzy had it first. Adam thinks he got it Ubering a tourist right at the beginning of the pandemic. Jazzy had it the worst. She got really sick. 

     I started wearing my mask again for two reasons. First, Damon got it when restrictions were dropped. More importantly, I want everything to be okay for the surgery. I don't want to get there and be told they can't do it because I am Covid positive or have any other infectious disease. Now that I'm committed to the surgery, I will do everything to make sure it runs smoothly.

   I set my alarm for 9:50, so I could get him by 10 am for my appointment with Shelly. I worked on the terror I feel when people respond with coldness and contempt, not just to me but to anyone. It provokes terror in me. Shelly asked if I could release it from my body. I do this kind of visualization with others, but I don't think to do it with myself unless I get the push and the support from Shelly.  

    The image that came to mind was a release that looked like a rocket taking off from Cape Canaveral. The fuel streams came from my feet and lifted me off the ground. I wasn't comfortable. It made me unsteady. I could feel my hips clench even though I was lying down. I imagined two poles for me to hold on to. That way, I could maintain my balance and not fear falling. I allowed the stream to grow with that support, so I was a good four feet off the ground. I got daring and let the stream lift me twelve feet off the ground. That was a little too much. I have a fear of heights. 

    At the end of the session, Shelly asked if there was a change. I felt tummy growls during the session, a sure sign that something good was happening, but I didn't feel any different at the end. I didn't know if the work would be profitable.   I would only know if the was a difference if there was a trigger and I didn't respond. 

   Susan, the church administrator, called to check on where Mike's gravesite was. Matthew was there to deliver that cement wedges. She sent me this picture below. Two engraved granite slabs will be attached to the cement. Then we will be done with this project.

                                      

  I heard a talk on grief on Hidden Brain tonight. The woman studied something to do with psychology. She also lost a child. She resented the imposition of Kubler-Ross's stages of grief. There are indeed some people who demand you go through those stages. If you don't, they almost accuse you of failing, being self-indulgent, or unloving. Kubler-Ross developed this theory to help people. But everything suffers from unintended consequences. The speaker experienced grief closer to the way I experienced it. It comes and goes. While it never gets smaller, life does get bigger. Life grows around the grief with new experiences that don't include the loved one, and it gets larger in contrast.

        I started reading What My Bones Know by Stephanie Foo. However difficult my childhood was, it was nothing close to what this woman suffered. Nonetheless, I recognize her feelings of sheer terror and experience them again. I hope my reading it will benefit me and not just throw me back into earlier phases of pain and fear.