I know ... I had started to write an entry several months
ago on the 4 year anniversary of my fall and quite frankly it seemed too depressing
so I never push “post”. You see pain does that to a person. It keeps you in
your home locked away inside yourself. It keeps you on the couch and days and
weeks slip away. It also makes being creative nearly impossible.
But ... while searching for the answers and trying to get to
the root of my arm, neck, hand and nerve issues I found my own answers. Apparently this mess needed some weeding out
and eventually the long process of elimination would lead to results. I had
grown tired of the waiting games, endless tests and appointments, the multiple
suggestions of even more surgery, and let’s not forget when I almost slapped
the guy who said “have you considered this is all in your head?” (Insert deep
breath, dramatic pause and quick inner Zen attainment here!) After I calmly assured him that no, the
burning, tingling, and muscle pain that started at my neck ran through my
shoulder and down my arm (let alone one ICE COLD HAND!) making sleepless nights an unwelcomed and nearly constant habit was indeed real, I left
the office and took matters into my own hands. Google and I became good
friends.
And even though I had mentioned Thoracic Outlet to the “powers
that be” early on in this mess, my suggestions were dismissed – but I digress
and resist the urge to call any of them all up and yell “I TOLD YOU SO!” I've
realized that doctors don’t have all the answers, specialists often don't look beyond their specialties and in the end that I alone am my best
health advocate. I read blogs and forums and ran across many that were in the
same wobbly boat. When you know what feels right and go with that ... and then
therapy started. And let me tell you Graston therapy is not fun. Once a week now for the last 8 months I get
twisted into a pretzel and implements of torture scrape away at my neck, arm
and hand getting at the fascia that has had things in an ugly bind for far too long. I get pulled and flexed into positions and then must resist those
moves in efforts to get that part of me back to what it used to be and before I
can leave she most likely tapes me somewhere in hopes of relieving pressure and
restoring blood flow.
After several months I couldn’t see much of a difference and
though I momentarily may have lapsed back into states of depression and
unbelievable frustration, I kept on. And then it happened. I dropped things less. My hand wasn’t cold as I typed. I slept throughout the night and then ladies
and gents ... for the first time IN FOUR YEARS I could sleep on my right side
or on my back! Not ONCE in four years
could I do that post tumble. And with
more torture and some highly unpleasant cupping massages, the tingling in my
hand started to disappear. The pinching in my elbow was all but gone. The severe muscle pain in the forearm only
lingered a bit after strenuous activity. The mess was working its way up and
out of my arm.
(Said implements of torture ... and the one with the handlebars scraping down your side across your ribs I can assure you is NOT a pleasant experience!)
And that is where I am today. The “torture” continues as we try to get the
final awful shoulder and neck issues resolved but folks I sleep, I can paint
for at least part of each day. Now sure, sometimes I become QUITE aware of my
limitations while working and I have to be resolved to quit and walk away
before I make things worse for myself. But I am working. I am creating. I am in the space that I love to be more than
most anywhere and you cannot imagine how good that feels ...