Lies I Tell Myself: VII

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Lies I tell myself. “This is all a bad dream…”

There are days in my life where everything is so absurd that I am positive that I am stuck in a bad dream and I desperately want to wake up.  This past week has been full of them.  I was supposed to get a upper endoscopy and a colonoscopy and the day before I get a phone call that I now need a release from my neurologist because of my seizures and tachycardia.  From the patient point of view all I know is that when I eat my stomach reacts painfully, at times regurgitating food I ate hours prior.  Then when it empties it is like having a baby pass from my stomach to my small intestine.  From there it can sit for days…until it eventually moves into my large intestine.  It just grows until my abdomen is tight and painful.  I will spare the details of the end of the journey, but know that I would rather not eat than experience this everyday, all day long.  I have dealt with this for six weeks.  I had a seizure and I haven’t been quite right every since.

I have lost close to 20lbs, but have managed to add some weight on.  I don’t want to be sick-thin.  I am having trouble taking my vitamins and it my energy levels.  I have calmed down my level of activity at PT and Dance because I have been having issues and falling.

All of this seems unreal to me as I look back at what I just wrote.  It feels like last week I was living a normal life and now all of that is gone.  In reality, it has been almost three and a half years and I simply have recollections of feelings and notions of events that have no grounding in time.  Of the physical horrors my body commits all too often, it is the existential horror of not having a firm grasp on the passing of time is beyond my greatest fears.  I always wonder if I will recognize my daughter in ten years.  Will she stay twelve in my head forever?  Seems like I saw her yesterday but she has been gone for almost a week.  I literally have to go through social media and my memory logs and question people who I may have been around to figure out what is happening in my life.  I rely on my phone to tell me everything I have to do, when it needs to be done, where to go to do it, and all the people who are involved.

Still, every morning right before I open my eyes, I feel the stiffness of my joints, I assess the level of pain in my head and neck and shut off my CPAP and realize THIS IS MY REALITY and my dreams are only a temporary respite from my daily issues.  Every night when I go to bed, I pray that I wake up to something different…just not worse.

This is my reality that I have to accept again every morning.

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Lies I Tell Myself: VI

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Lies I Tell Myself: I don’t need to write that down. I’ll remember!!

One of the biggest problems that me and my neurologist struggle with is that in the heat of the moment, I don’t really remember that I have lost the ability to remember much, so I think I will remember like I used to, but later I learn the errs of my ways…again!  The worst partis constantly feeling bamboozled by my brain?

I have a phone that takes notes in at least four different ways, I keep a memory log (which I often forget about!), and I always have paper with me.  No reason I should not have access to all of the information I receive, but that old part of me just swears that we got this, meanwhile, my whole brain is on fire as I think too hard about what it was I forgot!

This process has been repeating itself since as long as I can remember…which isn’t long,  so I can’t really give an answer.  I suspect that it has been at least since the surgery, possibly since a little before.  Memory was one of the first major symptoms behind the pain and nausea.

My phone calendar is full of therapies, appointments, naps, meds, and more therapies.  I am trying to get better at remembering, but am considering having a pin made that says “if I didn’t write it, you didn’t say it”.  Not sure how people would take it.  I realize my inability to remember their super important information is anathema in their eyes, but I am not the person everyone remembers and wants me to be from 2014.  Trust me, if I could go back I would, but, that isn’t how it works, so here I am.  Thinking I am in 2014 in my head (because time hasn’t really moved for me) in terms of cognition and 2016 in terms of time.  I feel like the world went on without me when I remember that I forget.  Every time I remember that I can’t drive it seems like I was driving yesterday (I was not!) but it seems like it.

These are the worst because they bring up three years worth of misplaced emotions and fractured memories.  I can’t drive because someone drove into the back of my car as I turned into church to use the restroom.  Such a simple act changed my whole life.  Ruined my dreams, stopped and reversed my vocal progress, and made into what I am today.

However, the blessing is really in the fact that I don’t have to carry the weight of my emotional burden everyday because I just think I am on a day off from work or it’s the weekend.  It still has not permanently seeped in yet that I don’t actually work, but that is ok!  Things take time and hopefully as my life shifts I will just find a new “work” that I do and maybe keep a note telling me to write things down!

Survival Mode

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Not seeing much there…

In therapy this week, my doctor asked what my hopes and dreams were or my future ambitions.  I must admit, I was not prepared to answer such a question.  Hopes?  Dreams?  They died when my brother was murdered.  I laid them to rest and I don’t even visit their gravesites.

Ambition was always flexible.  I could work toward any goal as long as I was able to plan for it and stay on top of it.  Ambition has been in a vegetative state for two years.  It isn’t quite dead, but it’s hooked up to a lot of machines to keep it “alive”.

Now is about survival.  What do I have to do to make it through the next 12 hours? My phone will let me know when it is time for medicine, when to reorder an Rx, when to write in my journal, when to log my headaches, when to go to the doctor, where I parked the car, how to get from here to there, what my calories and nutrients for a day should be, when I have been sitting for too long, when to practice Italian.  The list goes on and on and on.  Basically, my phone told me to sit down and write this post.  It was time.

When life starts being that constrictive, it is hard to plan outside of that especially when you throw in the uncertainty of not knowing how you will feel any given day and for how long or will this time end up back at the hospital.

When I look at my future, I see a cloudy mass, dark with uncertainty.  Will I be able to go back to normal?  Will I degenerate? Will my memory come back?  Will I be able to work again?  Will I be able to afford a car someday?  My own house?  Nothing.  Out of a 15 specialist medical team, all of them are pointing to my brain as the culprit.  So, next I go to the Cleveland Clinic Lou Ruvo Center for Brain Health and pray that they can offer me a diagnosis so at least I know what I am up against.

So, I told her, I don’t see anything.  I don’t hope for anything anymore.  I just live to survive.  Maybe one day that will change and I will be able to enjoy the wold I live in and again dream of things and have hopes.  For now, I just have to take care of today, and that is ok.

One day at a time.

 

Enrich your life with The Life Of A Music Monkey

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“I can’t believe it’s been a whole year!  I just got a promotion, what have you been doing?”                                     “Surviving!”

The world at large does not have a thorough understanding of recovering from brain surgery.  While their lives breeze by marked by accomplishments and milestones, my days are monotonous and almost indistinguishable from one another.  My memory started fading over a year ago, and I only have vague recollections of what has been going on in my life.  I have not achieved anything, and it makes for very awkward conversations.

Dreaming…

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Dreaming the dream!

Life is full of dreams.  They change and mature as we grow and sometimes when we are on the cusp of achievement, the dream dies.  I felt this way last year when my doctor told me I would need brain surgery.  Everything that I had worked for was snatched from my hand and I was left with what felt like nothing.  I could no longer sing arias or even hold my guitar.  And when I could hold the guitar, my fingers wouldn’t always cooperate.  After surgery, I got a ukulele to help me with retraining my fingers to listen to my brain.  It has been the most comforting item during this period of my life.  When everyone is sleep and I am wide awake, I can sing and play and feel like my voice is still relevant.  I may never go back to school.  I may never perform a solo again.  I may never be what I thought I would be.  I will sing though, and I will imagine all the people whose hearts I could have touched.