Chiari and Love

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Chiari and Love

 

I know nothing of this topic.  I will come back to it when I have actual content!

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7 Stages of Grief For Chronic Illness

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The contents released in this series were inspired by this article: The 7 Psychological Stages Of Chronic Pain which I found last week while surfing the net (dig my lingo, guy) looking for how different types of losses cause different types of grieving.  When we lose a loved one, we are faced with the finality of death.  It is often a hard reality for most of us who have experienced the actual passage from this life.  Time usually helps these wounds close over and they become tender spots in our hearts.  Memories that can bring back tears and smiles.

When we lose our home or job or car we often feel violated, ashamed, or helpless.  I have lost all of these things and they can bring alone a grief that is very dark and scary in the beginning, but as life continues on and new opportunities arise we make it through the ending part of the grieving process and begin fresh again.

When you lose your memory the process becomes more challenging.  When you are in chronic pain the process becomes longer.  When you have a degenerating disease it just becomes a mess.

For me, the memory loss is awful because I am constantly being reminded that I forget things and it is like I am in a constant state of being shocked about something I already knew but forgot.  I don’t know how often I tell people the same things over and over.

The addition of chronic pain makes the anxiety in my life miserable.  See, I could be having a fairly painless day, but I know it’s coming.  Maybe a day, maybe a week. I am going to have an amazing headache.  I know in my heart that it is coming and it’s hard to tell myself to just enjoy today.  I feel like I need to prepare to feel the wrath of the Palm of God pressing the crown of my head onto my neck.  Then, like yesterday when a pre-headache symptom appears, I am just counting the hours until I am debilitated.

My body hasn’t died.  My body as I knew it and loved it are simply no longer present and I have been travelling a river of tears trying to get back to a dream.  I think my old body would want me to learn to love my new body and take the time to explore it’s bells and whistles.  It’s hard.  I just don’t know what I am or who to be.  That’s ok.  If this sounds kinda familiar to you, I encourage you to read and comment about your experiences over the next 7 posts.  It honestly is nice to know we are not alone.

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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.