Life really is
beginning to return to normal for me since I had my gallbladder surgery. Before
I was diagnosed correctly, I got to enjoy four to five years of absolutely
horrible health.
I’m not really a
complainer. I’ve had very bad arthritis for nearly 20 years now, and for the
most part, I just ignore the pain. That’s not to say I don’t feel it. That’s to
say I feel it and think, well, that’s just how it is for me. It is, after all,
only pain. I have been to an orthopedic specialist who says I’m not a candidate
for knee replacement because of where the arthritis is. And while I could have
my ankles fused, I don’t want to. I still have some range of motion in them, and
fusing them would make life challenging in whole new ways. So I take pain
medication when I need it, but I don’t let the pain or the prospect of more pain
stop me from doing what I really want to do. And since all the rest of my
arthritis would still ache (knees, hips and lower back), I don’t see the point
in fusing my ankles.
But this
gallbladder situation, that was a whole other matter. I was suffering from what
I’ll politely call unpredictable incontinence. That was one of two symptoms of
gallbladder disease that I endured for years before I actually had a gallbladder
attack. The other was that eating never felt good. Even though I cut down my
portions and ate only about half of what I had been eating before this all set
in, my stomach didn’t feel good afterward. Rare were the times when I ate a meal
and enjoyed it. The latter symptom made me never want to go out to eat, and the
former made me never want to go out, period. I was in fact very close to
declaring myself house bound.
Traveling was a
nightmare for me these last few years, as I never knew if I was going to need a
bathroom. My warning time was often as little as ten seconds—not a problem if
you can run, but definitely a problem if you walk with a cane. And there were a
few memorable occasions when I was given no warning at all.
But things are
better now, and it’s like I’ve been set free from a prison. I can enjoy a meal
and not suffer for hours after it. I’m regular, though I do understand that
being the age I am there will be times I won’t be. But it’s not an looming,
unpredictable horror any longer. I hope soon, I won’t even worry about it at
all. Habits do, after all, take time to break.
I feel so good,
that this weekend coming up I am going to renew my swim membership for the first
time in several years. I’m going for the “fitness” package, which will allow me
the use of exercise rooms at our local facility, as well as the pools. I can
walk on a treadmill (if it’s not going too fast) and I can use an exercise
bicycle. There are also a few weight machines I can use, as well, to increase my
upper body strength. I won’t go every day, but I think even if I manage three
times a week, I’ll be better off for it.
Life hands us all
crap from time to time (sorry for the bad pun). That is the bald truth, and as
far as I can see, when it does, you have two choices. You can weep and wail and
carry on, because this has happened to you; or you can sit back and figure out
your best options, and handle it accordingly. I try not to do too much weeping
or wailing. But I’m human and there are days when the arthritis pain is really
bad. Sometimes a good cry is exactly what’s needed.
I do that when no
one else is home. Tears are a tool for relieving stress, not a ploy for
sympathy.
I also try to
look on everything I’ve experienced in life—especially those things we tend to
think of as bad—as a gift. The best gifts are the ones you share, aren’t they?
Some folks may not care to know what I go through on such a personal level, but
there might be someone out there who will read this essay today who will sigh
with relief, just knowing they’re not the only one—they’re not
alone.
What are we on
this earth for, I ask you, if not to do what we can, share what we can, to help
one another? That’s been my tenet for the last many years. It allows me to live
the best life I can live, with an attitude of gratitude.
So I am grateful
for all I’ve experienced, and especially for the opportunity to share these
words with you.
Love,
Morgan
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