Random feet-related psychological bits

[cjsmith]

(from comments elsewhere)

1. I find I am already inventing hope for myself. I could have what he says I have and I could go into totally spontaneous miraculous remission. I could have what he says I have and medical science could learn what to do with it. I could have something different from what he says I have. On some level I realize this is illogical; what's the name of that river in Egypt? On another level I realize it is essential. Reality-based? Me? Not when I can't afford to be.

2. I deeply value being an independent, self-sufficient person. Nobody tells you, when you get a diagnosis like this, that the hardest part isn't learning how to make all the endless frustrating/painful/expensive/inefficient accommodations in your daily life; the hardest part may not even be giving up about seventy percent of the activities you once loved; the hardest part is convincing yourself that your core values are no longer sustainable and must be jettisoned.

I'm realizing now how unutterably spoiled I have been, to be able to have "being an independent, self-sufficient person" as a deeply-held value. (Perhaps the same could be said of having "not being in denial" as a strong value.) Really, mind-bogglingly spoiled.*

Obviously I'm still working through this in a psychological sense. Perhaps my record of this process can eventually help someone else who is in a similar situation some day. Plus it helps vent my spleen, which is worth a lot.

3. I called my sister the other day, for her birthday. It was a couple hours after my diagnosis. She asked how my feet were and I just said same-same and dropped it. I mean, it was HER birthday, not CJ's whinefestday! But now I feel like I'm hiding something. Maybe I'll send a family e-mail this weekend.

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* Can you imagine? I used to whine about curable things.

Comments

[sunnydale47.livejournal.com]

=BIG WARM GENTLE HUGS=

Rather than jettisoning values, I see it as having to change your entire perception of who you are. It's just another way of saying the same thing. Someone says a few words and suddenly you realize you're a completely different person -- a person for whom running and and square dancing are out of the question.

You've suffered a loss, and you have to go through the grieving process. Someone you love very much has died, and you feel lost. The CJ who ran and square danced is gone, and instead you're in this strange new uncooperative body.

Allow yourself to grieve. Cry when you're frustrated and sad. Pound the table or grab a throw pillow and beat up the sofa and yell "IT'S NOT FAIR, DAMMIT" when you're angry. Above all, be good to yourself.

And don't think it's pure denial to hope. If you had told me when just hobbling to the mailbox with my cane left me in exhausted pain that in 15 years I'd walk six miles, I'd have laughed bitterly at you. But I gradually found things that helped -- the right meds, acupuncture, graduated exercise, learning to pace myself, eating better, drinking more water, losing weight, taking glucosamine, developing my love of nature ... no one thing made a big difference, but each one made me just a little bit better, and added all together there has been a huge improvement.

There may not be a dramatic fix for you either, but there may be a lot of little things that will help. And maybe there will be a breakthrough that will bring the old CJ back. It's not foolish to hope that a cure will be found, as long as you're able to accept at the same time that it might not.

dcart and annina_writes have spoken eloquently and wisely. Read their comments again until they sink in.

I'll send you good energy, and light a candle for you next Sunday.

=BIG WARM GENTLE HUGS=