Aggravating on Principle

Have you ever been faced with a familiar situation, one that happens semi-regularly, that you can’t realistically stop from happening unless you significantly change something, that doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things but that royally ticks you off every time it happens?

I’ve just had one.  I no longer even wait for the situation to fully bloom into its annoying fullness.

Instead, I’m trying to forestall the arguments before they can even happen.

But the heart, it’s still racing, my ire still high, cheeks flushed and clearly my fingers typing in aggravated, frustrated and semi-righteous fervor.  Obviously in anticipation of the supposedly potentially forestalled arguments.

Yes, I’m aggravated on principle before said principle has even been pushed on.  I do believe this is referred to as a knee-jerk reaction.

Sounds about right.

🙂  Well, nothing like a good aggravation to clear the arteries.  I feel better for sharing.  Thank you.

 

Six and a Half Weeks

I’m very sorry to tell you that this post bears no relation to 9 1/2 weeks.

Six and a half weeks is how long I’ve been horizontal due to a herniated disc.  Yes, the CT scan confirmed it.  I’m very happy to say that the pain is nearly completely gone…so long as I don’t sit and/or stand for more than about 10-15 minutes, and not too often throughout the day.

Still, being able to manage without painkillers is awesome!  I did have to go through a couple of days of withdrawal which turned out to be headache maximus.  The narcotics did get me through the worst of the pain though and I wouldn’t have managed without them, so what’s a massive headache in comparison?

I’ve read probably at least 30 books and counting.  And I’m waiting oh-so-not-really-patiently for the nerve problems to go away.  I would really like to feel my toes again…and the side of my foot and calf.  For some reason the toes are more noticeable though.

Toes?  Are you there toes?  Toes!  Come back to me Toes!

😉

Starting to get a little magical again which is fabulous.  It’s been emotionally difficult feeling so beige about everything.  Nothing was particularly interesting unless I was reading a good book.  But now…even managed a little ritual for the dark moon.  Clearly a sign of improvement, yes?

Come on, Back, finish healing so we can go outside, smell the fresh air, feel what the weather is doing, LEAVE THE HOUSE and all sorts of other fun things.

Hope springs eternal.

Anyone else have a sudden vision of Tigger?

Just me, eh?  Figures.  Happy Friday to all!

Day 12? of Hell

I’m writing this out so that I won’t completely forget what the past couple of weeks have been like when (notice the optimism of when cf. if) the pain finally goes.

Yes, pain.  Agonizing, excrutiating, overwhelming, unignorable, incapacitating pain.

Apparently I have a slipped/herniated disc leading to sciatica.  Did you know that there is a posterior sciatic nerve (which is the agonizing pain straight down the back of the leg) AND an anterior sciatic nerve (which causes pain down the outside of the leg)?  I didn’t.  But now I do, and oh OW how I know it.

The onset was slow, inexplicable, no sudden movement or funny accident that caused a sudden burning agony.  Instead it was slow.  At first I thought it was just a muscle ache.  One that lingered for two weeks growing increasingly worse.

I finally dealt with it by going to the chiropractor who put my hip back in (apparently it was strangely twisted) but alas the pain didn’t disperse.

It got worse.

I saw the chiropractor again, then the physiotherapist, twice, then a doctor at work.  That visit was simply because the pain was too much by then.  Or so I thought.

HA!

There was such a remarkable scale of pain yet to be encountered.

So I got painkillers, tramadol.  At this stage sitting was pretty problematic and walking hurt, and I couldn’t stand still, but little did I know what was yet to come.  The tramadol helped.  Mildly.  Fyi, tramadol is a synthetic opiate.  Over the counter was doing shit all so it was time for the big guns.

But the big gun wasn’t really cutting it so once my doctor’s office opened again I went in to see her (This was about Dec 21?).  Thus the diagnosis of a slipped disc.  And you know what you can do about it?

Shit all.

Take drugs, stay mostly immobile, wait for the swelling to go down.  :/

So I got a triple prescription of more tramadol for the pain, cyclobenzaprine for a muscle relaxant and naproxen for the anti-inflammatory.  Did I mention that my doctor is in Vancouver but I live 45 minutes away in New West?  My head went woozy at least twice on that drive home from the pain of sitting.

I made it to the Pharmasave and got my prescriptions filled in under 8 minutes.  Yes, I looked that bad.

Made it home, got the medications, water and myself to the couch and I’ve basically existed between the couch and bed ever since.  Luckily for me, pretty nearly every day felt the same or worse (mostly worse).  The outside of my left foot went numb (I long for the day I can feel my baby toe again) and a couple of days ago the numbness migrated up the outside of my leg to my knee.

Do you know what you do for this?  You wait.  Because in most cases it goes away on its own.

Within a couple of days of when I admitted defeat and collapsed at home, the pain for standing and walking had grown to the point where I could only stand or walk for a minute or two before I *had* to get back to a prone position or collapse weeping.  I don’t remember the last time that I cried from pain (the tattoo doesn’t count imo) or nearly passed out from it.

Huge massive thank you’s to my friends and family for helping me out through this.  For things like groceries, the new pain prescription (I’m now on ‘real’ narcotics – oxycodone/supeodol) and kitty litter cleaning, etc.

Naturally with any action causing shooting agony followed by waves of scorching pain once I was horizontal again, I was very limited in what I could do, forcing me to consider what where the most necessary things in life.

Hair brushing didn’t make that list.  Teeth brushing only occasionally.  And everything had to be orchestrated for maximum time standing effectiveness.

My days have gone something like this, where this is the worked out most efficient morning when the pain has been at its worst:

  • wake up and cringe because the first hour of the day sucks
  • reach down and grab yesterday’s pajamas and put them on carefully while still lying in bed (if they were getting too smelly they would get changed out during the day if I had a shower or bath)
  • grab the water bottle, pain medication and cell from beside the bed and head straight to the kitchen
  • feed the cats as quickly as was humanly possible (they’re now on wet food but that’s a whole different story) and pick up yesterday’s food plates (picking them up the previous day would be an extraneous action, you see), and grab a banana
  • limp frantically to couch, drop phone, pills and cell beside couch as I collapse carefully onto it
  • spend 5-15 minutes (depending on the day) with waves of pain rolling up and down my body that I keep breathing through and consciously relax into so that they’ll pass faster.
  • eat banana and take all three medications (anti-inflammatory requires food with pill)
  • get up and go to the bathroom.  On a good day I would brush my teeth first, most days my teeth got brushed several hours into the day.  First because sitting down (and that’s what our toilets require) causes too much pain so after the bathroom it’s always straight back to proneness on the couch.
  • spend 10-25 minutes recovering
  • spend day alternating between couch on back and for short periods of time on stomach.
  • getting a meal was usually get up, throw bagel into toaster oven, crash back onto couch and breath through pain, get up when ding said done, put cream cheese on bagel, crash back down on couch and eat
  • there were occasional bathroom breaks, always leading to owie time on the couch
  • if no one came over who I could convince to clean kitty litter, then I would do that at some point during the day
  • I have read many books.  Hardcovers are easier on the wrists if you rest them on your chest when you read them.
  • I have watched a ridiculous amount of tv.  Turns out that dvd’s require you to bend or kneel down to pick the next one and then y0u have to be in that same torturous position to change out the dvd.  Not worth it.
  • I have had several visits, yay peeps!
  • I have cuddled cats.  A lot.  I’ve also kicked them off me a lot when the pain was too much
  • This is the first day I’ve been capable of spending any time on the computer typing, so not a lot of net surfing has been happening.  Okay, essentially none.
  • I have waited for a positive change in my condition (ssshhhh, don’t tell anyone but I think today is better than yesterday!)
  • I missed half of present opening on xmas day due to overwhelming pain.  There was an incident involving a 140 pound dog stepping on my breast (on the piercing no less!) causing back spasm on top of the pain of the 10 minute drive to get to mom’s house, not to mention the agony of walking from apartment to car.
  • Each day has been measured in time chunks related to when I would next take a pill (one was 2 x/day, 1 was 3x/day, another was 4…you get the idea)
  • And in the middle of it I got my period.  Wimpiest period I’ve had in probably two decades, for which I am eternally grateful.

Thankfully the drugs kept me from caring too much.  Sleeping’s been torture though.  Turns out that I have three sleeping positions:  they are all flat on my back and simply variations of how my legs are arranged.  I never sleep on my back, as in it’s practically impossible for me to fall asleep except on my stomach or maybe my side.  So I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in almost two weeks.  That doesn’t help I must say.

I have learned that looking after my cats’ needs is one of my basic requirements of living (it’s a responsibility thing), then that which may help me get better.  Food and water.  Everything after that, and I mean everything, was negotiable.  Because doing anything results in lying flat on my back breathing through waves of pain.  And that’s for things that took two minutes or less.  Washing hair is at least 8 minutes of standing = lamaz breathing agony.

Okay, done now, pain calling.

Oh, with one addition, this isn’t shared as a pity request.  I really do want a record from when I’m in the midst of this for later when I forget, and in case anyone wonders why they haven’t heard from me, well, this is why.

Ciao bellas/bellos.  🙂

Society Encourages the ‘Me’-A Spiritual Christmas?

Okay, so a couple of days I got a tad tipsy, saw an ad that was for some high ticket item.  It was definitely a Christmas ad, but it was promoting that we buy the item for ourselves, not for others.  This led to something of a rant.

I’ve hopefully cleaned it up enough that you can garner some smidge of a booze-addled insight from my rantings.  Feel free to correct me.

(Of course, it’s always possible that the commentary is also completely obvious, but letting it out made me feel good.)

Christmas ads are apparently now about getting stuff for yourself, before christmas.  Giving license to all of us to  be self-interested at this time of year.  Oh yeah, don’t forget to get something for the people you care about, but don’t you also care about yourself?  If you did, you would buy that fabulously priced 60″ lcd tv now to save yourself stress and money.  Waiting for Boxing Day and using only those funds left after christmas that you can afford?  That’s just silly talk.

We’re saying it’s okay to put yourself first.

Do you remember when Christmas was about giving to other people and yes, also about getting, but it was about what other people gave you.  It wasn’t about what you could get for yourself.  When did it stop being a social, community, all about each other event and become all about the Me?

The Me?  What’s that?  You know, the individual, the I I I me me me that wants to come first.  Like when we were five and didn’t really get why we had to share our toys.  Mine first, you can have it later if I decide to give it to you.  All about me.

And here we are, 17 days to Christmas and the ads are telling us to go out and buy this cool ‘x’ for ourselves.

Commercialism is clearly driving our society.  It is the driver of the chariot of our social opinions.  It gets money by getting us to spend.  We’re letting it tell us that it’s time to let go of the spiritual meanings in our lives in pursuit of getting the next cool thing.

It makes me ill.  It’s hard enough holding onto, finding, and/or drinking in our spiritual experiences.  It’s just that much harder when we are being slapped at every turn with instructions on how to be a more selfish, self-interested, self-involved individual.

Show your love this season by showing that you care.  Which does not mean buying the biggest thing you possible can….for yourself.

Okay, I admit, I should stop watching tv again.

Happy holidays!

Stillness

I sit, quiet and still. I wonder not. I sit and welcome in the lines of dark branches. They sway entangled with each other against the gray of a sky that knew both night and snow.

I sit and sway, quiet. I have drunk in the stillness of the shaded pond and have become. Life swimming, swirling, snogging below the surface within me. But I remain still. And think of it not.

I live and sway, quiet. I need not. Not of things, not of thoughts, not of what has passed nor possibilities.

Stillness

Self-negotiations with a side of lunacy

Do you negotiate with yourself?  Make deals?  Body, if you do this, I’ll give you that?

As if we’re somehow separate creatures.  Though then again, with our component thinking, feeling, being parts, we kind of are separate creatures sharing one poor out-of-luck body.

But I digress.

Since I can’t wait for you to respond, I will continue as if you had agreed with me (oh, suddenly the megalomania of it!  Love it!  In my head you are all suddenly puppets and I’m in charge!  Oh, shit.  I’m in charge?  I don’t want to be in charge!  Don’t you dare be my puppets.  You had better all be free thinkers evaluating your own perspective of my ramblings. If you’re not, I’ll, I’ll…make faces at you and be most disappointed.)  Where was I?

Oh, yes, so I negotiate with myself.  This week was about food.  My knee still isn’t up to snuff and there have been many opportunities for lovely eating extravaganzas.  It’s a simple equation and it wasn’t working in my favour.

So I started negotiating with my body about this sugary, fatty food habit and how for the health of all of us it really needed to slow down.

Can you guess how that went?  Exactly, body snickered in my general direction and flipped me the bird.

But here’s the trick, I didn’t tell the body what I wanted and walk away thinking that it would magically listen to me and do what I say.  And I didn’t ignore the insults and walk away.

I sat down with me and let me emote all over the place.  I asked myself the question of why I wanted the food.

And then I FELT the answer.  I don’t know about yours, but my body doesn’t talk in words.  It talks in desires and emotions and feelings.

How did it feel about my healthy food plan?  Pretty fucking pissed.  How dare I simply assume that giving up the tasty treats was okay?  Don’t I know that it likes the extra weight?

Do you? I asked.  Why do you feel that way?  And do you remember how it felt when we were in shape?  That the workouts were hard, but how good it was afterwards?

A very reluctant agreement.  Further exploration of feelings and needs and desires.  Slightly better agreement.

It’s an on-going discussion.  But isn’t that the way it should be?  A shared multi-level experience of living.

Happy negotiating!

~Abysmal Witch

Samhain Memories

Okay, yes, I’m a little slow, but hey, I have at least one silly story and some fun pictures to share.  Like this one

It was a fabulous night.  I and my covenmate got together early in the day, where early still means afternoon.  After all, I’m just not that much of a morning person.  Our first stop of the night was to pick  up meal, snack and mead provisions.

I will say now, the mead didn’t make it.  It was my first attempt.  Our eyes glistened with sadness.  It was horrible.

Okay, phew, got that hard part over with.

While most of what we did I won’t be sharing (sshhhh, it’s a coven secret LOL really most of it was only interesting to us), the start of the night was sharably entertaining.

As twilight fell we attempted to leave my apartment to go visit Grandma Willow and do our first ritual of the night.  Yes, attempted to leave. We were a tad inebriated.  It was fabulous, don’t get me wrong, but it led to a few false starts.  But I’m slightly ahead of myself.

We bundled up, all nice and cozy and warm for an evening of walking.  I’ve got my long, black wool diva coat on (others have described it that way, it’s not my own label! lol), my Wicked (TM) witch hat (I adored that musical) on and some funky make-up.  My covenmate was in her robes.  We’re headed out the door and as we walk through it I commented “You know, for most people it’s come as you aren’t night.”

It took her a second and then we were both laughing.  She made a fabulously witty comeback which I’m so ashamed to say escapes me now and we headed to the elevator.

But shit! We’d forgotten the offering of mead.  Back in we went, filled a small tupperware container with some mead which went into my coat pocket since neither of us were carrying a bag and then we were back at the door.  I looked at her, at the door, and what did I say?  “You know, for most people it’s come as you aren’t night.”  We both snicker as she says her fabulously witty comeback and head back to the elevator.

Ah, crap.  No gloves.  The giggling has already started as we head back through my front door.  I’m falling over as we get back to the door, gloves in hand and I have to say “You know, for most people <snicker> it’s come <snort> as you aren’t night.”  My covenmate can barely talk as she gets our her rebuttal and we flee to the elevator.

We’re at the elevator and I have that horrible moment, “You know, I forgot–”

“Don’t even say it.”

We didn’t go back again.  I don’t think we could have lived through it.  We wouldn’t have been able to breathe.

Out the door and off to Grandma Willow (yes, the same one in my Grandma Willow post).  Unfortunately, the lid came off the tupperware and by the time we arrived we only had half of the offering left to give.  And I spent the rest of the night reeking like an English pub.  Made me thirsty.  From there we went on a meandering walk back to my place, through the side streets filled with trick-or-treating kids and decorated houses.

And a lot of people with little dogs.

Every time I saw one of those, I cried out “Damn you, Toto!  It was your fault!  I know it was.”  That made for a lot of laughter on my side and on theirs.  The dogs didn’t seem to care.

On one house there was a large video screen stretched out from the balcony railing to roof playing The Blob, entertaining the adults while the kids went up to the house.

We passed a particularly friendly fellow and I insisted that my covenmate get her picture taken with him.

There was this one apartment building near my place where a group of residents had gotten together and done a wonderful set up in their front lawn.  Though the best part was the very movie style zombie wandering up to two blocks away who would come towards you with brain stealing intensions clearly written on his empty face.

And my final picture for you is of the “Smash Me” pumpkin.  I can’t help but wonder, did it survive the night?  What do you think?  What are the odds?

 

We spent some time in a coffee shop chatting about all kinds of wonderful things and then it was back home to cook dinner for us and the anscestors and watch some Halloween classics:  the original Halloween and Wizard of Oz.  In and amongst that was more ritual.  What more can be said than:

Happy New Year to all!  And to all a Good Night.

~The Abysmal Witch

 

Lost in Fantasyland

Ah, the joys of obsession.  You know them, don’t you?  When you start a project and in your head you’re thinking ‘this is cool, this project of mine, I’ll have fun with it’.

Do you know what those phrases have in common?

They all presume that ‘I’ am in control of the process.

HA!

I should know better.  I have cats after all.  The illusion of control is one that has been repeatedly stripped from me but still, hope lingers.  And it lingered in the taking on of the NaNoWriMo challenge.  My fiction persona, Samantha Herne, has taken over my life and it’s been write write write all the time.  As I type that I feel a little bit like the Mad Hatter.

That brings me comfort.  Which just goes to show that my world is a strange one.

But as disruptive as such obsessions are, I do believe there is something good in them.  There is a freeing, a releasing in giving yourself over completely to something you love.  With caveats of course for things like eating, sleeping and not killing or torturing people.  Well, live people.  I write fiction so tormenting people is something that I’m required to do.  Muwhahahaha.  Oh, sorry, outside cackle.

Regardless, I will be attempting to stay in better contact.  Because I know I’ve been a bad blogger and I will attempt to rectify that.

Abysmal Witch, out.

@$$ Apple!

Now for something completely different.  Or at least entertaining.

Do you think nature has a sense of raunchy humour?  I do.

Because one of my co-workers brought in a bushel of apples from his tree this past week, and one of them was an ass apple.  Yep, an ass apple:

Nature, it turns out, is also naughty.  For not only was it an ass apple, it was a spanked! ass apple.

But you can always trust nature to go for the anatomically correct artistic:

I love nature.