Cars and Curtains

Gonzo, I replied directly to your comment on the earlier entry, but I screened it. Are you able to see it?

Some mornings time is a guessing game. When the mania began to hit its peak and I was up between 1 and 2 AM, I unplugged the clock. The early morning hours, blinking in red, seemed a dangerous and depressing warning sign. NOW, as the wake up times shift something closer to normal, I sometimes wake up and go "Oh god, please don't let it be 2:30 AM. That's too early."

Most mornings I am surprised to find it is closer to 5:30 AM, which is acceptable to me. If I step out and hear the birds chirping, even in complete darkness, then I am reassured. It is at least 5:30 AM then.

Now with the dr appts and all that piling up week by week, maybe I ought to plug the clock back in. It has an alarm that could wake the dead and raise armies of zombies within the first two blares - of which I'd need, since medicated sleep can be ridiculously deep sleep.

(If you're lucky, at least.)

It's funny the things you notice when you are outside on your balcony so early in the morning. A neighbor across the way has a new curtain - a deep maroon one. Another one has either moved out or moved his computer (possibly a lava lamp?), as I can no longer see the slow, strobing colors of red, blue, purple and green through the window. Another leaves their curtain open to comfortably sleep through the still-chill air of early spring. I see who leaves early every morning, who comes home in the early mornings. On the weekends, I notice those whose have had too much to drink and those who obviously haven't had ENOUGH to drink.

It's the most curious sort of voyeurism. I do much the same in the hospital, endlessly staring out windows, trying to come up with all sorts of little games to entertain myself. Granted, it usually involves cars instead of curtains, but the idea is the same.

My father said that meditation has helped greatly with his chronic pain and that he will sending what has been most helpful for him. I am somewhat skeptical. But at this point, I am willing to try anything that doesn't include (1) chasing around for narcotics or (2) running me another 80 million doctor's appointments. Besides, everyone says meditation helps something for them.

They can't all be wrong, can they?

I know diet can help, but my food stamps have expired and I just haven't had the energy to sit for four hours in a bright, cramped waiting room stuffed with loudspeakers and crying babies. Another thing I have to dig deep for the energy for - and be willing to pay the price of two days straight of sleep for.

Just haven't had it in me to do that yet. So we've been doing food pantry runs. I'm not so much following the renal diet right now as I am just avoiding the really bad foods.

You work with what 'ya got, right? And if "what you got" is enough food to have TWO servings of Tuna Helper, then by god, be ecstatic, because that's probably the best you're getting this week.

(Jesse's amazing at spicing things, though. He makes that shit taste goooood.)

6:18 AM. Given the time, I'd go right back to bed. But I've a therapy appointment at 9...and dear lord, I NEED therapy right now. I've got so little energy it's likely I'll fall asleep in the waiting room.

Maybe it'll be enough of a cat nap. Probably not, but one can always hope. I was thinking that perhaps I was paying the price for an active day of chore and errand running yesterday, but as the last year has unfolded, I'm beginning to realize the fatigue really doesn't care what I do or don't do. It's at best unpredictable (meaning maybe, just maaaaybe today is the day I CAN do chores and errands) and at worst, static and miserable for weeks on end.

I'll try taking a bath. It has a 50/50 chance of either waking me up entirely or else knocking me on my ass, but at least I'll smell better and my joints will ache less.

(I've long since given up on showering. I never have the extra spoons - nor the trust in my physical stability under hot water - to stand for 10 minutes without toppling over.)

This entry was originally posted at http://quirkytizzy.dreamwidth.org/1069792.html
I am able to see it, yes.

And yeah, I hear mindfulness meditation is increasingly being used to help treat chronic pain problems.
My guessing is the fatigue more has to do with the general performance graph of humans, as it seems to be independent of activity - activity only increases it, but less the activity doesn't make it go away, it's still present - and hits at about the same times over the day. Being a morning person or night owl can shift times when the general ups and downs in performance would kick in for somebody, but that's about it.
Guess there's just nothing more than trying to integrate this into one's day as best as one can. Not trying to burden you with important activities for day times when you know you're never the most powerful, for example.
Maybe take a little attention to this for a while if this is so, if that follows these rules.
The last bit, about the showering...had me thinking. My grandmother had some issues in the shower. After she fell in the yard, and broke her neck, she no longer felt safe in the tub. So we got her a plastic folding chair, so at least she could bathe in peace.
That's a really good idea. Jesse had mentioned it, but hearing it again really makes me think I should do this. Thank you. Sometimes even just drawing up the bath itself can be exhausting. (Let alone having to crawl in and out of the tub). A sit down chair would consume less energy.
LOL She speaks!

But seriously, you're welcome. Falls in the tub can be dangerous. She had some issues getting around, and after she fell outside, really became more aware of it. There wasn't anything special about the chair, other than it was plastic, and fit into the tub. One of those white resin chairs (shouldn't be more than $10 at Target) designed for outdoor use, should work fine. Another thing you might consider, is getting your landlord to install some sort of handrail in the tub...in case you'd lose your balance. Take care, OK?