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Posts Tagged ‘Chronic pain’

“I did the only thing I knew how to do: I built my own walls of silence to disguise my desperation and what later came to be recognized and diagnosed as depression.”
Sharon E. Rainey, Making a Pearl from the Grit of Life

A strange thing happens when I sit or recline to write. Either I’m eager as a beaver because I feel I have a stunner of an idea, I sit and look at a blank screen and finally something surfaces like a safety line thrown to a drowning person, or I languish forlornly staring at the accusing emptiness and suddenly words will flow and something is on the page. Ideas like bubbles blowing in the breeze wash over me in a magical haze and words appear in front of me.

Amazingly, the latter are the best of all, so I need to tap into my well spring of creativity or, do more prep work because I love writing and love seeing the finished item as I hit that publish button. I was told many months ago that writing for the acclaim of others was a waste of time. If I didn’t like writing for myself it was a lost cause and I should simply stop right then. Incredible as it sounds, that advice was true then and is still true now.

Having said that, it certainly is wonderful having people enjoy what I write and comments are always appreciated because they give me a chance to learn more, about myself and this craft of writing. Yet this is not what I wanted to talk about.

I am a terrible ‘patient’. Terrible doesn’t cover it. Abysmal is closer to it really. I hate the whole illness, can’t do things, must take pills by schedule, do this, do that, everything ordered by someone other than myself. This is not independence. I am, or rather was a fiercely independent person. No – I still am. I haven’t changed, I simply have had to accommodate some changes that irritate but I have to accept as a necessary evil! Temporarily!

For three days I’ve been incredibly emotional after a unpleasant , horrific dream. Even though it turns out the dream is not as bad as it felt, it left me emotional. I hate emotional. It is a loss of control, it is an undermining of the little independence I have left and it leaves me tired, in pain, unimaginably so, and with a burning desire to do something, anything to make me feel, even for a short time that I am ‘normal’ once more.

#Desperate Measures

Ocean Shores 4.30am

Normal, what a stupid word to use. What is normal? Well, for me it is being able to do what I want, when I want without needing any assistance, even that given freely and with love. Independence. It is a heady draught and having it taken away is dis-empowering. Yes, everything revolves around empowering ourselves. Illness removes that empowerment in the cruelest way.

So, after another sleepless night and emotional day before it, I lashed out. I secreted my clothes and sand shoes in the laundry before ‘officially’ going to bed. At 4am I decided my husband was deeply enough asleep I could afford to get up. He is used to me getting up and down during the night now anyway. Quick trip to the bathroom and a little makeup, just in case someone should see me and I crept out to the laundry where a light wouldn’t disturb anyone.

Yes, I sneaked out of the house like a teenager breaking curfew! I even had the forethought to grab a water bottle and my phone. I haven’t walked to the beach where I live and I’ve been here a year. I haven’t sat on the beach and seen the sunrise (at the beach) for a year either. I used to do both regularly when I was alone, independent, before I was engaged or married. I was like a drunken sailor, or a drugged up lunatic, weaving and staggering down this hill. I thought the beach was at the bottom of the road. A kilometre later I reached the sandy access to the beach.

All I could hear was the pounding of the waves. I wished I’d brought my camera but I don’t think I would have made it to the beach if I had. My whole body trembled from the exertion and I staggered down onto the hard sand to sit down. Thankfully seeing someone staggering in the soft sand doesn’t raise eyebrows. I was there and I wasn’t going to be able to move. But I was THERE!

#Desperate Measures

Sunrise at Ocean Shores Beach 5am

I watched the sun rise above the horizon and the clouds.

It was beautiful. It wasn’t hot – I can’t take the heat and the meds had made me burn easily. I could feel the calm wash over me with every wave breaking along the shore line and the rays of the sun peeking over the horizon.  I hadn’t known it was a dog beach. A dog. OMG – how much I want a puppy, a miniature fox terrier and all my own. It’s like an ache, never ending. The dogs began appearing with their owners and I was truly happy when they came over to say hello. To pat them, scratch behind their ears and look into those kindly brown eyes, was blissful. Strange how little it can take.

My photos are grainy – even the lauded iPhone can only do so much. But I will be returning with my camera,and soon. By 7am I was beginning to feel more than a little uncomfortable. Couldn’t move my legs properly and turning around brought a sharp twinge.  A few more canine cuddles and I knew I couldn’t wait, it was time to start the trek UP the hill to get home.  The sun was now a blazing ball in the sky but it was still cool.

#Desperate Measures

Sunrise Ocean Shores 6am

I hit my first hurdle. I couldn’t stand up, couldn’t twist around and couldn’t bend my legs enough to kneel up.  Just a little problem. Soft sand….. I finally managed to flop around like a beached whale until I I got one knee pulled under me enough to lever myself onto hands and knees. Humpf!  This is what emotional independence gets you. Somehow I made it upright only to fall flat on my face – almost, hands and knees again. After my third staggering attempt and fall someone noticed it wasn’t quite normal and offered to help.

Help! I had to acknowledge I needed help to get up that soft sandy dune and she was a nice and concerned lady. So we managed to get to the seat at the edge of the dune so she could stretch after her walk and I could regroup after hiking up the sand dune! I was determined to walk up that darned hill. I stood up and walked to the footpath with my new found friend. My body, not one part of it, wanted any part of moving in a co-ordinated fashion. I staggered like a drunken sailor with palsy until I finally reneged on my independence and accepted a lift to the top of the hill.   So much for being independent.  After showering and changing I’ve been sequestered in bed, complaining body reminding me of my foolhardy outing at every turn. Yet desperate circumstances require desperate measures to be taken.

#Desperate Measures

A mini foxie friend at Ocean Shores

I may have paid for my intemperate haste to be independent, but I have my doggie pics and a few hours of remembering what it felt like to be able to go where I wanted, when I wanted to with impunity. For a while I forgot I was this person with an illness. I was Susan all over again and it felt wonderful. One day, one day soon, I will be that person again… come hell or high water I will be.

Blessings, Susan x

© Susan Jamieson 2014

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We the People.

I am going to be critical of our respective health care systems and patient treatment, so if you will be offended, skip this post.

I have read posts from friends I care about, posts which have reduced me to despair. I wonder where we are all going and what the purpose behind this is. It seems almost too much to ask a person to accept and yet that is what we are being asked to do – but by whom?

In my heart I see the suffering of my friends and search my heart, my soul, for some way to help them and stop this insidious separation of healthy people from those who are struggling with theirs. Why has this treatment of the ill as an unwelcome burden on society resurfaced with such callous indifference?

This reminds me of the days of biblical times where the lepers were isolated because they believed all forms of leprosy were a curse from the gods and contagious. It reminds me of more civilised days where the ill and infirm were locked way as an embarrassment. The improvements in our healthcare systems, in the knowledge of our doctors and specialists were supposed to bring better healthcare to the sick.

#We The People

image from http://www.leprosymission.org.uk       Spinalonga, off the north-east coast of Crete operated until 1957

It appears from changes that are occurring that this is now in decline. The day may come, sooner than we wish, when only those with money are able to have good healthcare, good doctors. I am at a loss to understand the thinking behind these changes.

As part of the “first world” countries, we send doctors, nurses and billions in healthcare to “third world” countries whilst at the same time we fail to offer the same degree of care, the duty of care, the Hippocratic oath doctors must swear, in the care of people in our own countries.

I am truly grateful that we have “Doctors without Borders” and other groups. I admire and respect their dedication and service. I would like to say the same thing about the service offered at home.

#We The People

image from hellaheaven-ana.blogspot.com

The reality is apparent. Politicians, doctors, specialists, have the financial means to see the best person to attend to their needs in hospitals or otherwise. OK, they have earned it. I do not believe the rest of society, because they are not as financially independent, should be denied the same level of care. I am grateful for their abilities, I am grateful they are successful, yet I fail to see why these abilities should be the privilege of the wealthy.

Recently I read a letter from a doctor who said he was only responsible for diagnosing the problem and ‘ordering’ the medication for the patient. Any ancillary care was up to the patient to arrange, if they could afford it (detoxing, herbs, massage, science, food as medicine, meditation, alternative therapiesor physiotherapy etc.). Is this a case of Russian Roulette?

#We The People

image from http://www.nnym.org Which one today? Red and Yellow and Pink and Blue, Purple and Orange and Green..

Things in Australia are different from in America or Britain. I understand the new ‘Obama-care’ is reviled for disenfranchising people. In Australia, if you are ill and are unable to afford private health insurance you may as well forget care at all because by the time the public system gets to you, you are probably too ill to benefit from it.

It is the usual case, if you cannot afford to pay for private health cover (I did until recently) then you are out of luck. You cannot see a specialist, go to a private hospital or get any assistance from any source. You go on a never-ending waiting list. Yet the doctor says: go to your local hospital. But, whatever you do, do not go via a friend’s car or you will sit in the waiting room forever. As unpalatable as it sounds, and as much as you wish to be “independent”, take the ambulance. At least you will be in the emergency room; probably in a hall, but there none the less.

You see, here in Australia, unfortunately I cannot speak for America or Britain, we have a dire shortage of doctors, even if the Government and AMA disagree. We accept overseas students to train to be doctors and specialists, who then, instead of returning home afterwards and thus saving every country the need to send OUR doctors there to treat their people (remember “Doctors without Borders”), they remain here for a much better lifestyle and pay. We cannot even afford to see these doctors. We therefore accept trainee doctors in hospitals from overseas and the commentary of that defies logic.

Why can they not allow our children who want to be doctors and specialists to train in our Universities and then treat us? Why? Because all the places are taken by these overseas students who amazingly cannot speak English and need translators when they get into difficulty. I beg your pardon? They cannot speak English? How can they study or treat patients later? It’s a miracle; they develop the ability by osmosis the moment they graduate.

I am told we need the overseas students to help pay for our Universities. What is our damned Government doing, in fact what is every damned Government doing? My friends, and countless others who are ill and in pain, who need to see doctors, specialists or have hospital care, are being manipulated by the various systems being underhandedly put in place to see that they are not cared for.

If ‘we’ as a global society can spend billions on overseas healthcare in aid programs, then it behoves us to ensure that at home, our own people are given the best healthcare possible. After all, each “first world” country accepts hundreds, if not thousands, of refugees each year. Each person is given free healthcare – but the tax payers of the country are treated with less dignity and respect than the refugees.

#We The People

image from http://www.news.com.au        Just swimming in cash

I do not begrudge anyone healthcare, irrespective of who they are or where they hail from. I simply believe that, as the Americans would say, “We the people” are entitled to the best care possible without gouging our pockets to receive it. I’m sorry, but I have yet to see any healthcare professional walking around in pain and not able to obtain assistance. We should also be able to.

#We The People

image from happy-people-group-fb.jpg articles.mercola.com –

May peace, love, health and happiness be yours.

Blessings,  Susan x

© Susan Jamieson 2014

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“Trying to plan for the future without knowing the past is like trying to plant cut flowers.”
David Boorstin

Christmas Traditions

Christmas traditions come in all shapes and sizes. There are those who celebrate on Christmas Eve, celebrations on Christmas Day and yet others on Boxing Day. There are religious traditions and non-religious traditions. What they all have in common is family, or if not family, the gathering together of people. For me, Christmas has always meant family, together, sharing, laughing and having a good time, and for the most part I have been very fortunate.

Christmas has always been a time when people gather together and it has been a time when people try to extend a hand in friendship to others, especially those who have little. It is beautiful offering a hot meal (in cold countries) and something else in hotter climes to those who have little or nothing. The gratitude is palpable and makes the effort worthwhile. To me it’s one of the Christmas Traditions that are worth keeping.

Christmas Traditions

image from http://www.smh.com.au                                   The Salvos helping hand

This year has been a year of change for me. All my previously held family Christmas Traditions have been changed and I’m finding it difficult to adapt quite so easily.  For the first time my husband and I had Christmas Day alone, just the two of us. After cooking Christmas dinner for my family for over three decades, it felt – not quite right, as if I was slightly out of sync with the way things should have been.

We spoke to our respective families, those who would or could. Such is family life. My son and his girlfriend had the Boxing Day spread with us and it was a wonderful day. My daughter we spend the day with on Saturday. Yet, the change to my ‘Christmas Traditions’ feels a little alien.

I find myself feeling ashamed by my thoughts. I have so much more than some. Even though things have changed I still have my family. They care enough to spend time with us and laughing over Christmas’ past.  This is what Christmas Traditions are all about.

I think of the families separated by distance and cannot be together. I think of the soldiers in other

Christmas Traditions

image from kindnessblog.com

countries who cannot be with their families and I think of the people on the street who have nowhere to go. I think of so many things and wonder what has made the difference so pronounced.

Since I start to reflect on the past year once Boxing Day winds down, I look at how the year has progressed and how I have changed. It sounds a little ridiculous to say I had refused to acknowledge I was ill, but that has been truer than I really care to admit. I have fought it, tried by denying it, to make it go away or have less impact and, as a consequence, paid the price. I have reached a point, where I can no longer deny the truth. I now have to be realistic and balance out the various aspects of my life.

By no means is this giving in. As 2013 draws to a close it is time to review everything which has occurred this year. There is time to look at the year and take what has worked well and expand on it; take what has worked sometimes and either improve on it or change it; and those things which have not worked, they need to be looked at and ‘tossed out’ if necessary.  Time to start new Christmas Traditions!

Christmas Traditions

image from megayachtnews.com

It is only by reviewing the year realistically that I can make 2014 a better year. That means taking the good and making it better and getting rid of what has failed.  It’s not simply a case of making “New Year’s Resolutions” because they rarely last long enough to be effective. Rather it is this review process which promotes growth in a positive fashion.

By being willing to throw out those things which are not working I am giving the Universe space to allow those things I am planning, room to grow. My “Life Change Program” has a fifteen point review for me to look at. There are questions which help me to hone in on the successes or the not quite successes, to the things which simply didn’t work. I will use it to make my plan for 2014 so that when the year begins I will have my blueprint ready.

I am going to factor in my health this time, healing time, work time, fun time, anything which will help make 2014 a brilliant year, because, the alignment of the stars tells us that it will be a super year if you are ready to make the most of it.  Five days of planning, for my husband and me individually and together, as a couple and for business. Everything we need to have a fabulous and successful year. Then look out 2014, here I come!

Blessings for a bright year

Susan x

© Susan Jamieson  2013

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Sunrise Sunset

Sunrise, Molten Gold

Sunrise

It’s beaten me to it once more

Sunrise

Golden  bright

It’s light so strong it makes your eyes water

 Sunrise

Over the placid blue waters

Neither wave nor a ripple to mar the blue

Sunrise

Casting glimmering flights of molten gold

Between the ripples over the water

As though the light itself was alive

Sunrise

The start of another day

Yet the Sunset heralded the end of yesterday

And I wonder where the night went

Why did it flee so quickly

Like velvet across bare skin

Soft and smooth as it slides free

Darkness

Brings no release from this waking prison

Yes I am still here for the pain I ride

Gives me have no measure of illusion to hide my face

As I hide it from the accusing light of the sun

Boring deep inside this pulsing mass I call a brain

Tentacles of pain surviving any prodding

Like a living thing it takes its nourishment

From the agony inflicted in its wake

Surcease

From this pallid existence

Between moments of peaceful calm

Hard fought with acceptance and calm

Each moment a drop of relief

So small it could be overlooked

Yet there it is

Comfort

From knowing I have the secret

The Secret

Peace, calm, acceptance, mindfulness

The tools

I now have to overcome this

Nemesis

Called Pain

Sunrise Sunset

Moon over water at Byron

Have a great weekend

Ciao, Susan x

Sunrise  Sunset

Peace lily – the right flower for the right time

© Susan Jamieson 2013

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“There are as many worlds as there are kinds of days, and as an opal changes its colors and its fire to match the nature of a day, so do I.”
― John Steinbeck

.

Despite the fact that I was relieved I wouldn’t be going on further tours with Cherylane, I still felt let down over how things had turned out. I spent quite some time wondering if I was, in fact, totally wrong about that I should be doing with myself.  In short, I began to wonder if I was meant to be following ‘this’ spiritual path. It didn’t help when I read about her doing her tours and going on a TV show, which she won. I couldn’t help but think of the Jekyll and Hyde and wondered what her adoring fans would think if they knew the real person. But being a bitch doesn’t change what she did and I didn’t want that as part of who I was so I let it ride.

Whether it was simply knowing I didn’t have to go on the road again, or doubting what I should be doing I found myself in a growing amount of pain. In fact it seemed to become substantially worse overnight, each night!  The best the doctors could come up with was… the usual STRESS! Then finally it was decided I had Chronic Fatigue, a name,  but totally unhelpful diagnosis. It appeared that after acknowledging I had CF that I was to ‘learn to live with it’. Rest was all I could do, that and whatever was within my ability to do without causing a flare up. I really love the “live with it” attitude I hear so often. If you’ve got a,b,or c, “accept it”, “learn to live with it” because “it is what it is”.  I must have missed out on the Saint instructions. I’m still struggling to accept the status quo. I feel if I do then I will sink into oblivion.

image from myjustliving.com

Bumping into a friend from my old spiritual circle was a turning point in many ways. I began going to a new circle she was running and the meditations were both soothing and enlightening, Apart from the rampant tiredness which annoyed me when I was meditating, the injury to my neck made it almost impossible to keep my head upright. If I rested my head back on the chair there was always the possibility I would fall asleep.  I was relieved when I was told to stop worrying about it – if I fell asleep I would still benefit from the meditation and Spirit were helping me to heal.  The relief was huge. Guilt over something outside your control can be devastating, especially if you are made to feel you are showing a lack of respect for something outside your control.

I started back with the healing group also and continued my Melchizedek training. It’s difficult to describe the experiences and feelings from the healing and the meditations we did. It felt as though I traveled backwards and forwards in time and space and during the healing, into and through the body. It was mind-blowing to put it mildly. At times I would end the meditations and healings in tears at the incredible things I saw and felt.  Whatever had happened before, I felt I was where I should be. I should add that these experiences occurred when I was giving as well as receiving healing. At least  many of the people I gave healings to said this to me.

There was a continued ‘presence’ of spirit around me. I could sense Dad’s presence by scent and he seemed to be spending more and more time with me. I would hear him calling in my sleep which seemed odd when I knew he had already passed over. Then I realised that each time Dad’s presence was the most strong were the times Mum was having an attack or was ill. Time was passing and I felt an urgency that the one thing I didn’t want to happen was drawing closer.

After my divorce I had eventually remarried. (Some lessons are hard to learn). The honeymoon period hadn’t lasted very long and things had been rocky for a while. Tensions had mounted whilst I was traveling with Cherylane and I had a household of discontent, and it wasn’t solely mine!  I started a small business working from home, healing and card reading which was working out fine. I could limit the clients to how many I knew I could manage so it didn’t overly concern me that it was only slowly growing.  There was a great deal of satisfaction as my skills at healing and accuracy with readings continued to grow. Being at home seemed to ease some of the tensions there, even if they didn’t help my health very much.

I felt that I needed to remain available, but if asked I would have been hard pressed to give anyone an explanation. Meanwhile the pain intensified. I had my gallbladder removed and was disappointed it didn’t help my health improve. It reminded me of my near death experience, well as close to one as I think I’ve had. This happened when my children were both in Primary School. If you’d like to catch up on my near death experience. Just follow the link.

There was an intense feeling of momentous change which left me feeling uncomfortable. I suspected what was coming and desperately wanted to avoid it. So I prayed, for the first time in a very long time, very selfishly, for myself. At least that’s how it felt to me. If  my prayers were answered it was not how I expected, but then they rarely are.

image from embracethechildrennj.webs.com

“Prayer is when you talk to God; meditation is when you listen to God.” ~Author Unknown

Blessings,  Susan xx

Next week – Old Doors Close

© Susan Jamieson 2013

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This is a marvelous image from one of my old-time favorite films by Stephen King called “The Langoliers.” It’s  a strange yet believable story about a plane full of passengers who go through a rip in the fabric of time and are thrust into the past. Anyone who was awake when they went through the rip vanished to… who knows where?  The problem for the survivors is that the past fades over time, speeding up the older it gets, or the more time passes.

Added to this are “The Langoliers” the gobblers of old-time who clean away the after images of time.  Which of course means our heroes and bad guys have to be sorted out and away before they arrive. Since I love a weird explanation for things this film really interested me at the time.

Which brings me to today. Since the middle of the week when I spent the day visiting my doctor I’ve had a wee problem, and I haven’t touched the scotch! To backtrack slightly. I’m no longer in the habit of long days and on the way home fell asleep in the car. No problem. Apart from the obvious fact that cars are the most uncomfortable places for a nap I’ve yet to find. I woke up with not only my back and neck screaming at me but every joint in my body. I have no idea what I did but I certainly ticked off my body.

We have no idea why the trip home took an extra two hours. There were no accidents but the traffic stopped and crawled along and I tried to minimise the groans, after all what good would it do? We had to get home.

Since then I’ve been cossetted and looked after extremely well by my wonderful nurse and hubby.  I’ve written my blogs when I’ve been awake and I’ve slept in fits and starts. The starts were accompanied by fits of excruciating pain. It’s not new and I could say I was used to it, but you don’t really get used to sudden onset pain.

Even that isn’t the problem, only the reason for it. Sleeping in irregular patterns and in fits and starts totally stuffs up the mind-body relationship. Consequently, since Wednesday I haven’t known what day of the week it was. This may not seem like a problem but when you need  to arrange things or try to do things it is an issue.

So Thursday became Friday and today became Saturday. It didn’t matter that I was told repeatedly what day it was, I would forget immediately and have to be reminded again. This is frustrating to someone who is manically organised.

So this, my dear followers is it. I don’t know which day it is or if it will be Sunday or Monday tomorrow. I hope this fog lifts soon as I have some nasty meds to start on Monday so if I can steal an extra day from the Langoliers I’ll be very happy.

Until then, Live in the Moment and enjoy each one because once they’re gone, those Langoliers will come munching them up for ever. Wish me luck, getting back through the rip in time.

Ciao, Susan x

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image from valentineswallpapers.blogspot.com

“After great pain, a formal feeling comes. The Nerves sit ceremonious, like tombs.”     Emily Dickinson

Eventually, no matter how hard you try, when faced with a situation you can neither change, escape or end you find yourself in a state of RAGE!

Pain does that to you. It erodes your ability to control anything, and I do mean anything. You lose all opportunity, choice, chance or ability to effect the world around you. You become controlled by it.

So, in an attempt, futile though it may seem to be, you decide, in some far recess of your brain, that part of your brain which is still related to the instinctual, reactive part of you to fight, to rage against the pain you feel. That deep dwelling, ancestral animal part of you will not sit by, it rages against this pain with its own ferocity.

I’m beginning to wonder if it lasts long enough would you eventually devolve back to that pure reactive animal instinctual creature? The simple fight for your life mode, fight for your sanity, only the fight is against what is happening inside you.

I’ve been trying all day to hide this damnable pain. It ‘s dug deep into my ribs and my hips, bored holes into my head and I’ve tried to breathe through it. My mantra, “I WILL NOT DO THIS” to stop any tears was wearing very thin.

image from ieris-aizer.deviantart.com

From the struggle came this poem.

Of Humanity at its Best

When the pain is biting hard

In your body, side and brain,

And your joints feel pulled apart

By irons of fire, like molten magma.

When you know through foggy thoughts

That no tears will quench this fire

And no pleas will stop the hurt

From those sharp daggers of pain

Then from somewhere deep inside

Comes the darkest of our species

That animal which dwells so deep

Of our ancestors whose farthest reach

Rises up and to the fore

Screaming loudly “I WILL NO MORE”

And no more crying do you make

For the pain they will not slake

And you will ride that awful ride

Through the darkness of the soul

Til respite comes once more.

Futile, it may seem

To fight against such might as this

But for some

That is all that’s left

To save humanity at its best.

“So great was the extremity of his pain and anguish, that he did not only sigh but roar.”     Matthew Henry

From the ashes of defeat rises the Phoenix. May we all rise and soar high.

Bless   Susan xx

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