Not really. I’m referring to starting my life as a Karmi at Salt Lake Power Yoga. That’s what they call the volunteers who exchange work for unlimited yoga at the studio.
I’ve only worked 2 shifts, and it’s pretty disheartening to feel like I’m not physically capable of doing a job! Both days resulted in high pain, Level 8. Last Saturday, there were pain spikes I’d actually classify as 10, that made me unexpectedly … vociferate, I guess. I don’t know how else to describe it. I wasn’t moaning. I didn’t scream. But these muscle spasms would come on and just force the voice out of me.
I don’t describe anything as Level 10 pain, because I’ve never had a baby. Surely, that’s the 10 on a pain scale, right? Not even this ghastly post-surgery treatment I had to endure without anesthetic. At one point, the doctor said to the nurse, “If she were a man, she’d be screaming right now.”
“Really?” I asked. As a kid, my mother told me that women tolerate pain better than men. I heard an inner voice that said, “Not me.”
But this doctor told me my infection had burrowed an inch and a half into my flesh, and he had to, first, dig it out, then pack the whole thing with antiseptic tape.
“Women are tough,” he assured me.
“Even me!” I was amazed.
“Absolutely,” he answered. “I’m impressed.”
“Well, it isn’t fun,” I told him.
“You can yell, if you like.”
“What’s the point? You’re almost done. Tell me you’re almost done.”
That was a 9.
Last Saturday, solid 10 pain. I’m pretty damned frustrated.
I went to Salt Lake Homeopathy 2 weeks ago and can’t say I’ve noticed any difference whatsoever in my pain and fatigue. Neither have I noticed any tapeworm corpses leaving my body, and if they’ve been there since I went to South America 5 years ago, they’d be too big to miss on their way out. The homeopath told me to expect to see them. Where else would they go? I was plenty grossed out, but glad for fair warning.
Now I just feel like a fool. The snake oil did not kill the snakes – Rather, there weren’t any – and my Fibro remains uncured and undeterred.
Is there really nothing I can do other than immunosuppressants? The side effects are as bad as any disease!
I hoped fine weather would help. (Cold temps can be a trigger.) I’m taking easy hikes, in spite of waking each day with discomfort, and constant concern that over-activity will ruin the rest of the day.
I’m doing everything I can.
I do know that yoga is not working to manage my pain, at all. I feel better doing yoga, because I’m stronger and I enjoy the improvements to my body. I truly love the peaceful, meditative feeling that accompanies each class. I feel pride in myself for finally doing something proactive, and for sticking with it. But I admit, by mid-April I am deeply discouraged at the lack of relief I find from a regular, committed practice. NONE.
That’s the most frustrating of all.
I’m in pain every minute of every day. Between 1 o’clock and 3:00 p.m., it tells me whether or not I need to start popping furious Ibuprofen, adhering Salonpas patches, and praying!
It’s too much. Nothing is enough. It’s not working. I HURT. I’m tired, and I’m tired of it!
Okay, okay. I haven’t tried everything. Hell, a regular massage. After my karmi shift on Saturdays, perhaps. A chiropractor? (I’m secretly afraid of chiropractors.) The point is, there are options yet remaining. But I gotta say, I’m getting pretty tired of being so goddamned optimistic.
There’s always something more that can be done.
Oh. The big one. Better diet. Every single day. Healthy, regular meals.
I haven’t tried everything. I am getting there. There is a solution and I will find it, because I don’t quit. I do feel like it sometimes.
(P.S. My doctor took his wife and 2 teenagers to Burning Man a month later, based on our conversation at that appointment, haha! I had to have surgery again after the infection healed, and I was worried about being healthy enough for the playa that year. I was.)