I’m starting this post at 5am. I can’t sleep because I’m in a lot of pain. I keep getting out of bed to ice the most troublesome areas – my neck, my lower back, my shoulders, and most especially that bit of my back that is just below my left arm and where a bunch of muscles connect my arm and my shoulders and my neck. I have no idea what that bit of anatomy is called, but it hurts like a very big ~expletive~, and is causing pain across my back and up my neck, my arm to hurt all the way down, and my fingers to go numb and tingly, all at the same time.
I don’t have any “extra” pain meds I can take, but I’ve rubbed it with some pain gel, and that ain’t doing a thing.
I’ve been trying to stretch and do a few of the exercises I learned in physical therapy, because sometimes that helps. But I have to be careful, because my Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (ME) gets worse with exercise, and doing so can cause a bad crash (Post Extertional Malaise).
I’ve also been rolling around on the floor on a hard ball, like a tennis ball, to try to release some lactic acid from my aching muscles. That also hurts like a big ~expletive~, and makes me cry even more.
Or maybe it’s the pain and the extra pain and effort and the exhaustion making me cry.
One thing that keeps me going, both right now and in general, is a saying on a painting I bought a long time ago:
Even in the dark
there is hope
and a chance for light
and… the reminder I got earlier today (yesterday? I’m not sure) that, well, there truly always is hope.
See, I love plants. I always have, and even though I’m not great with them, and even tho an early brush with “gardening” when I was young and lived on St. Thomas ended badly when a hurricane washed my “garden” down the mountain – well, I still potter away at it.
I used to have lots of plants in my house, but now I only have four. I also have some plants growing in the yard that need no tending (or don’t get any), and every once in a while, on a “good” day during spring and summer, I’m able to pull weeds for like a minute. Which I enjoy.
And I love seeing new leaves grow, and new flowers, and I talk to my plants, and thank them for the new growth, and “pet” whatever is growing, and tell it it’s pretty… (okay, I sound deranged now. But it works for me. And the plants don’t seem to mind.)
(I promise, I’m getting to the point. Eventually. But typing this out is helping distract me from the pain – except now it feels like someone is pinching me really hard on my right shoulder…oooowwww!)
Anywho, one of my inside plants is the kind that just has leaves, and shoots out long strands of bright green leaves, like a waterfall. (And yes, I should know the name of it, but like I said, I’ve never been that great at gardening, and now the brain fog is so strong sometimes I have no idea how to even use this blogging platform.)
Currently, this plant has two long strands of leaves, and one very short strand that has had nothing on it for quite some time.
I meant to pull out that short vine, but I never did.
That reminder I mentioned? Tis this:
A beautiful, new leaf on a vine I thought was not worth saving.
Like I said: there’s always hope.
(And here’s hoping I can sleep now.)
dSavannah Note: I wrote this about a week ago, but obviously didn’t post until now. I feel like a farce publishing it, when I don’t feel very hopeful at all. I haven’t been able to do anything for the last few days because of more pain and exhaustion and migraine and anxiety and insomnia and growing anxiety over everything I haven’t been able to do. (I have mentioned that being Sick Is a Full-Time Job, yes?)
But every time I pass that plant on the way to the kitchen, that leaf is getting bigger and bigger and is growing jauntily to the light. Even if I forget to water it. Even if I don’t even see it. It still grows. It still has hope.
And maybe this post will help someone else in need of hope. It exists, even if we don’t think it does.