I’ve always said that when you have a disability or a chronic condition or disease, either you manage it, or it will manage you. I prefer to be in the former group, but I often run the risk of micromanaging my disability, so to speak. Or, more accurately, I push too hard and it winds up managing me instead. Now, I’m not talking about bungee jumping when my leg is impaired, or doing something completely stupid. But in my quest to live my normal life despite my inability to walk like normal people, I do wind up in trouble here and there.
Case in point: I posted a while back about being on a wicked, nasty drug that has some seriously dangerous potential side effects. I’ve been extremely lucky in that while I do suffer the tendonitis pain, the fatigue, some nausea, and a few others, I do not see pink elephants on parade, ridden by elves in glittering tutus. I do not hear John Lennon telling me to imagine other such spectacles, and perhaps most blessedly, I do not have the urge to play chicken with a freight train. In my opinion, these are All Good Things.
That one little detail about the tendonitis, though; that one is an issue. Dr. A. heard that I was on the Big Nasty after about a week of it and tweaked. He was, to say the least, not happy. So after he growled and glared, his bottom line answer was that he understood why I had to do the whole three weeks, but “until further notice,” I was not to push, pull, lift, carry, or do anything at all to stress my tendons in any way. No strenuous exercise, no tough workouts, nothing. Any idea how hard that is? I have limits to what I can lift and carry, and I am well aware of what they are. But now, those limits have been scaled back drastically and I find myself having to ask for help in moving or lifting what seems like the dumbest stuff. It’s irritating as hell for me, and I’m sure it is for the people around me as well. The family has been great as always, stepping in to lift the turkey in and out of the oven, carrying boxes left by strapping UPS drivers up the stairs for me, and generally acting like the sweetest mother hens you could ever want. (Or not want.)
Today we decided to take a stroll through the trails at the Eno River State Park. The Teacher was up for whatever, and the Professor likes going on nature walks and such. The Scientist decided to come along as well, as he’d never been to Eno. I didn’t feel like I could really call this a “hike,” though. I mean, the trails were pretty clean, and the inclines were manageable, even for me. Semantics aside, though, it was a gorgeous day, and off we went, all of us with cameras of various types in tow. Alejandro is always up for new places, and we had a delightful time.
The one pitfall though, was the zillion or so exposed tree roots all over. They provided some cool photographic fodder (see below), but no matter how careful I was to watch where my feet went, I caught my toe several times. One of those times, I went down hard, landing on my right hand, which jarred my shoulder badly. It didn’t bother me overmuch at the time, but as the evening has worn on, the pain has settled in nicely. Having missed my afternoon dose of ibuprofen, I’m sure it’s inflamed more than usual, but I will definitely need to ice and drug it tonight.
Part of me is annoyed at the incident. Part of me is still proud at least, that I went on the hike instead of sitting on my tail at home, being lazy. Part of me realizes that in attempting physical exertion, I set myself up for this crap. And part of me doesn’t really care anymore. After all, what’s one more aspect of pain? But for all the parts, and all the aspects, I guess my bottom line for the day is that I had a really good time, and I’m glad I went. Which probably just makes me crazier than usual. =)