Sunday, June 20, 2010
Examining Chronic Pain Series: #1 Daily Patients
WE ARE PATIENTS-- DAILY
Deep, in the bones of my Thoracic spine, pain is hitting me hard today. I know that many other pain sufferers will understand this type of pain. For caretakers, family, and friends of a person in pain most of the time; this post may give you a glimpse into a world of our pain. It is not simply to hope that we can explain the actual pain. Being a patient on a daily basis brings many other issues to the front in our lives.
Patient***#1) One who is sick with, or being treated for, an illness or injury. 2.) One who is receiving medical care.***
So, we who have daily pain, are patients ALL the time. If you do not suffer from Chronic Pain, think of the last time that you were a patient. Saw the doctor for that earache and were on antibiotics that made you ill, or the rash on your arm that will not go away, to a hospitalization for a medical issue that was serious- or possibly life-threatening. You probably received a lot of attention from your support system, and were 'cheered on', brought food to, had visitors, and got calls from those that care about you; flowers and get well cards.
I've been in that type of position medically; during and after back surgeries. I saw the people that really cared for me in those situations. When there is something acute happening to someone we love, we are usually feeling a bit of worry, concern, care, and these manifest in acts of kindness. This is normal human behavior.
The patient then goes through a phase of rehabilitation, and eventually, (hopefully) returns to a good state of health, and move on with their lives. (I am obviously looking at the best of outcomes here for example only.)
The calls come less often, the cards stop, you have recovered and no one needs to go out of their way for you now. The illness, surgery or other medical issue is gone, and often forgotten by some. An ACUTE medical problem has been addressed, and you are no longer a patient.
What happens to the CHRONIC patient? I write in pure truths here and I believe that most people would rather turn their head than become involved in that patients life. (Of course save for our partners that are involved with us on a deeper level.) It is not a terminal diagnosis. It is a diagnosis that simply make us patients every day of our lives. Another deep belief of mine: Most people that shy away from Chronic Pain/Illness patients, have deeply-rooted fears that they too, may someday have the same problem. That scares them. It is easier to pretend that it is not happening, than it is to make a concerted effort to connect with the patient.
There is a lot to cover on this subject. I'm going to break this up in upcoming posts.
Also, I have been looking into Medical Coding and Billing as a possible option for me to work from my home. I found a great .org site with tons of information on this medical profession. Having a thorough knowledge of medical terminology would help, and I found out that there is the ability to focus on a certain specialty! Hmm wonder what I would focus on.....they told me that “Students learn about acute and chronic patients during medical coding certification.” Well well....I may be discovering the perfect job for my given situation.
The Only Constant In Life....Is Change!
Gentle Hugs ------<3
Next post--Top Ways To Easily Help The Chronic Pain Patients In Your Life
Gentle Hugs...
Friday, June 11, 2010
The Cabin With The Hearts
ENJOYING WHERE I LIVE
In Southern California, we are having the weather that make the many visions of beauty, beach sunsets, pure blue sky, and enjoyed by people ranging from CA natives, to the visitors and tourists who fall in love with this beauty, and vow to return; next time to stay.
With the desert, the beach, the mountains all within an hour away from Los Angeles, and a lot in between, we have so much available to us, places to enjoy this unbelievably beautiful weather. Clear and crisp in the early mornings, flowering trees and shrubs beginning their spring blooms and leafed up for summer shade...a bit warm in the daytime, and evening is, well, (yes I am going to say it,) PERFECT!!
The smell of BBQ's around the neighborhood fill the warm evening air, voices drift along the slight breeze. I have beautiful light purple flowers on vines growing all along my fence, I'm still not sure what it is, and all that does to me is grind in how far away from gardening I have gotten due to my pain. I vow on a few sweet pea seeds though, my favorite flower and one I grow every year, in every house I live in, save for surgery years and the last really bad pain years. I will attempt it before it gets too hot, and will plant an Autumn batch to give me December and January flowers. They do adore cool weather, after all. The more Sweet Peas are cut, the more they give me, and nothing beats a fresh cut bunch of them in the house.
This is the kind of day that many people head up to the local mountains. From Mt. Wilson near L.A., to Lake Arrowhead and Big Bear, not to forget Wrightwood, are all favorites of both locals and visitors alike. During this time of year, to be able to go up the windy roads to a cabin and spend a few days up in the forest, is one of the most relaxing ways to enjoy this weather.
There is a cabin up near Big Bear that I absolutely adore. When we pulled up and I saw hearts carved into the darling wood fence and bench that ran along it; I fell in love immediately. When one has a cabin up in the mountains, it is truly hard to find a 'bad' one. But then there are the really, really great cabins--and this is one of them.
After marveling at the outside cut-out-hearts fence, once I entered, it was pure quaintness and beauty. Warm colored wood floors, wood plank walls, a darling tiny cabin kitchen, with a huge heavily lacquered table nearby. I ended up loving the table so much, we went to Mexico to get a wood table as close to that one as possible. Still haven't lacquered it yet....
Of course the center of the home was the wood stove fireplace. With a fire constantly burning day and night, giving the already warm-feeling cabin a soft glow, I was struck by the, "I must get a cabin up here" wish-bug. Time for a walk out onto the heart deck.
A small bit straight out the deck, down a few stairs, and there was a babbling brook. (Could this get any better?) Well, maybe an old swing out in the middle of the forest by the water.....
Nah. Hold everything. It couldn't be. Yes. There was an old wood swing in the middle of the forest. By the water. I looked back to the little cabin so busy with smoke chugging out the top, dinner simmering; swinging slowly, I thought the beauty of this area has to be experienced by everyone who visits Southern CA. All this beauty, set in perfect areas, with perfect weather to accompany. This is just too nice to keep hidden.
Everyone who comes to L. A. must go up the hill and see Lake Arrowhead, and Big Bear, with the darling little towns in-between. There are tons of spots to easily pull off the road and take a leisurely picnic lunch in the forest. Within minutes, you can be back down the hill into city life again. There are little cabins that can be rented in both these towns. Book early for heavy vacation months. It is truly gorgeous up in the San Bernardino mountains!
Nothing beats the idea of a heart-carved fence....and a swing in the forest, to relax...even in pain.
Gentle Hugs...
In Southern California, we are having the weather that make the many visions of beauty, beach sunsets, pure blue sky, and enjoyed by people ranging from CA natives, to the visitors and tourists who fall in love with this beauty, and vow to return; next time to stay.
With the desert, the beach, the mountains all within an hour away from Los Angeles, and a lot in between, we have so much available to us, places to enjoy this unbelievably beautiful weather. Clear and crisp in the early mornings, flowering trees and shrubs beginning their spring blooms and leafed up for summer shade...a bit warm in the daytime, and evening is, well, (yes I am going to say it,) PERFECT!!
The smell of BBQ's around the neighborhood fill the warm evening air, voices drift along the slight breeze. I have beautiful light purple flowers on vines growing all along my fence, I'm still not sure what it is, and all that does to me is grind in how far away from gardening I have gotten due to my pain. I vow on a few sweet pea seeds though, my favorite flower and one I grow every year, in every house I live in, save for surgery years and the last really bad pain years. I will attempt it before it gets too hot, and will plant an Autumn batch to give me December and January flowers. They do adore cool weather, after all. The more Sweet Peas are cut, the more they give me, and nothing beats a fresh cut bunch of them in the house.
This is the kind of day that many people head up to the local mountains. From Mt. Wilson near L.A., to Lake Arrowhead and Big Bear, not to forget Wrightwood, are all favorites of both locals and visitors alike. During this time of year, to be able to go up the windy roads to a cabin and spend a few days up in the forest, is one of the most relaxing ways to enjoy this weather.
There is a cabin up near Big Bear that I absolutely adore. When we pulled up and I saw hearts carved into the darling wood fence and bench that ran along it; I fell in love immediately. When one has a cabin up in the mountains, it is truly hard to find a 'bad' one. But then there are the really, really great cabins--and this is one of them.
After marveling at the outside cut-out-hearts fence, once I entered, it was pure quaintness and beauty. Warm colored wood floors, wood plank walls, a darling tiny cabin kitchen, with a huge heavily lacquered table nearby. I ended up loving the table so much, we went to Mexico to get a wood table as close to that one as possible. Still haven't lacquered it yet....
Of course the center of the home was the wood stove fireplace. With a fire constantly burning day and night, giving the already warm-feeling cabin a soft glow, I was struck by the, "I must get a cabin up here" wish-bug. Time for a walk out onto the heart deck.
A small bit straight out the deck, down a few stairs, and there was a babbling brook. (Could this get any better?) Well, maybe an old swing out in the middle of the forest by the water.....
Nah. Hold everything. It couldn't be. Yes. There was an old wood swing in the middle of the forest. By the water. I looked back to the little cabin so busy with smoke chugging out the top, dinner simmering; swinging slowly, I thought the beauty of this area has to be experienced by everyone who visits Southern CA. All this beauty, set in perfect areas, with perfect weather to accompany. This is just too nice to keep hidden.
Everyone who comes to L. A. must go up the hill and see Lake Arrowhead, and Big Bear, with the darling little towns in-between. There are tons of spots to easily pull off the road and take a leisurely picnic lunch in the forest. Within minutes, you can be back down the hill into city life again. There are little cabins that can be rented in both these towns. Book early for heavy vacation months. It is truly gorgeous up in the San Bernardino mountains!
Nothing beats the idea of a heart-carved fence....and a swing in the forest, to relax...even in pain.
Gentle Hugs...
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
An Empty Spot Now on the Recliner
I have written 5 drafts and they get too 'wordy', yet I need to get this written down. I simply don't want to revisit the details. I do every day anyway.
There is a very big empty spot at the foot of my recliner where my last puppy was lifted up to, each time she wanted to come up. And there is a huge empty spot inside of me.
My sweet, blind, 14 year old Jack Russell finally had her day arrive. It was the day that she would see again. She crossed over to where her eyesight was perfect, she was lithe and limber with the energy I knew in her so well up until last year.
I can handle humans all bloody, I love surgery, and death is not scary. I have been present quite often at the exact time of death when in Hospice nursing. Yet put an animal on TV and show them abused, or see the puppy mills; I hold a hand over my face. I have great empathy for people, but the animals get me in the pure love area....especially dogs, with their unconditional love and care for us.
I had been crying all through the night she was sick and just kept vomiting, the poor thing. I fell into my bed after a night of emesis cleanups, and doggie consoling, I was obviously exhausted. I knew she was too. When I woke up that next fateful day--she was lying in a very odd spot, and was very light when I picked her up. I had her try a tiny bit of water, and after just a few laps, it came rushing back up. Poor baby. I could see the depressions in her head and face showing her state of dehydration.
She was very anxious and would do her 'normal' cry she did, to let me know she was hungry, had to go out, etc., but this cry escalated to sounds of pain and being uncomfortable. I felt so helpless!!
I knew when she couldn't keep the water down we were in big trouble. I called my son who was at work, and he came as soon as he could. It was late evening, so we just had the one ER Vet Clinic to go to. We knew, even before leaving, that we would not walk back in again with her. We took that very few but precious moments with our dog to cry and say goodbye here, in privacy, but we had to hurry for her sake.
When the ER Vet saw her, she asked if we wanted to euthanize her, well, of course I didn't want to, but I had to. Her diagnosis was 'failure to thrive', a diagnosis seen often in Hospice, and in Nursing Homes. Bodies start to shut down eating and drinking when it is getting ready to die. I noticed that for the past 4 days, I had been finding her milk bones given as a treat for going outside, in weird places around the house, and for her not to eat those, something is drastically wrong.
It absolutely breaks my heart to see my son cry. I know it hurts every mom when we see our children show the deepest part of themselves, crying from pure sadness and loss. It made me cry even more.
We spent a little time with her in the room, saying goodbye, stroking her silky fur and telling her what a fantastic dog she had been in our lives. The doctor came in with the famous pink see-through liquid, 3cc's. She just looked at us and asked if we were ready. We must have answered yes through our sobbing, and she inserted the needle into the IV catheter and slowly began to push the medicine in.
I don't do real great at that particular time with animals. Her blind eyes were open the whole time we were there waiting, and although she couldn't see at all, the glazed look that comes after the medication has worked, was too much for me to handle. I looked at the vet and softly asked her, "now?" She waited a moment, took her stethoscope off from around her neck and listened to Roxy's heart and lungs. Then she looked at me and nodded. That's when I saw Roxy's eyes change totally. The amazing thing is that I saw the difference even in her white-blind eyes between that very moment of being here, and the very moment of passing on.
I tried to close her eyes but they wouldn't stay shut. I told my son I was starting to freak out, but at the same time, I didn't want to leave her. We stayed in with her another 5-10 minutes, and then felt we had to leave. Yet the minute we got in the car, we both started to sob again.
I have been crying for a week. There is such an empty feeling not only in my house without my shadow following me everywhere, but also a true empty feeling inside of me. Like something was literally pulled from me.
Where is the soft fur to touch? The darling head that laid on my lap? Where is the sound of her nails on the wood floor? What do I do when it's dinnertime and I've been feeding 1,2, and 3 dogs for the last 14 years?
That kind of habit is not easy to adapt to. My sleep is now every other night, the sadness is overwhelming, and in the middle of all these feelings is the familiar pain, lurking in the background, just waiting to pull me down when I am otherwise very fragile.
Why do I still sit on my recliner adjusted to accommodate Roxy so she could curl up and keep me warm? Habit? Even ingrained into my body movements and mechanics? Yes.
My sweet, old, blind baby is gone. She gave us 14 years of love and tenderness. Just as I told her before and after her shot that night, thank you for loving me so very much honey.....for so very long.
As we turned and left, I took one more look at my dog laying on the table so still. I wanted to bring her home, hold her in the blankie my son wrapped her in for the ride there, and chalk it up to the flu. As we knew we would, we walked in the house empty-handed, in tears.
All there is now, is a very empty spot on the recliner by my legs. It's no longer warm and soft there.
I miss her so much that it hurts.
Goodbye Roxy....God how I love you.
Gentle Hugs...
There is a very big empty spot at the foot of my recliner where my last puppy was lifted up to, each time she wanted to come up. And there is a huge empty spot inside of me.
My sweet, blind, 14 year old Jack Russell finally had her day arrive. It was the day that she would see again. She crossed over to where her eyesight was perfect, she was lithe and limber with the energy I knew in her so well up until last year.
I can handle humans all bloody, I love surgery, and death is not scary. I have been present quite often at the exact time of death when in Hospice nursing. Yet put an animal on TV and show them abused, or see the puppy mills; I hold a hand over my face. I have great empathy for people, but the animals get me in the pure love area....especially dogs, with their unconditional love and care for us.
I had been crying all through the night she was sick and just kept vomiting, the poor thing. I fell into my bed after a night of emesis cleanups, and doggie consoling, I was obviously exhausted. I knew she was too. When I woke up that next fateful day--she was lying in a very odd spot, and was very light when I picked her up. I had her try a tiny bit of water, and after just a few laps, it came rushing back up. Poor baby. I could see the depressions in her head and face showing her state of dehydration.
She was very anxious and would do her 'normal' cry she did, to let me know she was hungry, had to go out, etc., but this cry escalated to sounds of pain and being uncomfortable. I felt so helpless!!
I knew when she couldn't keep the water down we were in big trouble. I called my son who was at work, and he came as soon as he could. It was late evening, so we just had the one ER Vet Clinic to go to. We knew, even before leaving, that we would not walk back in again with her. We took that very few but precious moments with our dog to cry and say goodbye here, in privacy, but we had to hurry for her sake.
When the ER Vet saw her, she asked if we wanted to euthanize her, well, of course I didn't want to, but I had to. Her diagnosis was 'failure to thrive', a diagnosis seen often in Hospice, and in Nursing Homes. Bodies start to shut down eating and drinking when it is getting ready to die. I noticed that for the past 4 days, I had been finding her milk bones given as a treat for going outside, in weird places around the house, and for her not to eat those, something is drastically wrong.
It absolutely breaks my heart to see my son cry. I know it hurts every mom when we see our children show the deepest part of themselves, crying from pure sadness and loss. It made me cry even more.
We spent a little time with her in the room, saying goodbye, stroking her silky fur and telling her what a fantastic dog she had been in our lives. The doctor came in with the famous pink see-through liquid, 3cc's. She just looked at us and asked if we were ready. We must have answered yes through our sobbing, and she inserted the needle into the IV catheter and slowly began to push the medicine in.
I don't do real great at that particular time with animals. Her blind eyes were open the whole time we were there waiting, and although she couldn't see at all, the glazed look that comes after the medication has worked, was too much for me to handle. I looked at the vet and softly asked her, "now?" She waited a moment, took her stethoscope off from around her neck and listened to Roxy's heart and lungs. Then she looked at me and nodded. That's when I saw Roxy's eyes change totally. The amazing thing is that I saw the difference even in her white-blind eyes between that very moment of being here, and the very moment of passing on.
I tried to close her eyes but they wouldn't stay shut. I told my son I was starting to freak out, but at the same time, I didn't want to leave her. We stayed in with her another 5-10 minutes, and then felt we had to leave. Yet the minute we got in the car, we both started to sob again.
I have been crying for a week. There is such an empty feeling not only in my house without my shadow following me everywhere, but also a true empty feeling inside of me. Like something was literally pulled from me.
Where is the soft fur to touch? The darling head that laid on my lap? Where is the sound of her nails on the wood floor? What do I do when it's dinnertime and I've been feeding 1,2, and 3 dogs for the last 14 years?
That kind of habit is not easy to adapt to. My sleep is now every other night, the sadness is overwhelming, and in the middle of all these feelings is the familiar pain, lurking in the background, just waiting to pull me down when I am otherwise very fragile.
Why do I still sit on my recliner adjusted to accommodate Roxy so she could curl up and keep me warm? Habit? Even ingrained into my body movements and mechanics? Yes.
My sweet, old, blind baby is gone. She gave us 14 years of love and tenderness. Just as I told her before and after her shot that night, thank you for loving me so very much honey.....for so very long.
As we turned and left, I took one more look at my dog laying on the table so still. I wanted to bring her home, hold her in the blankie my son wrapped her in for the ride there, and chalk it up to the flu. As we knew we would, we walked in the house empty-handed, in tears.
All there is now, is a very empty spot on the recliner by my legs. It's no longer warm and soft there.
I miss her so much that it hurts.
Goodbye Roxy....God how I love you.
Gentle Hugs...
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