Mind now - I like down time. I actually look forward to January as a time to indulge in sit-down, indoor pleasures. I just haven't sat down, indulged in pleasure or even been able to think of any pleasures in which to indulge. I am thinking it's reaction to a bunch of blue inducing stressors that washed over me in December. Things like Heart Attacks and Losing my Weight Watcher meeting.
Oh yes. And there has also been pain. This is something I didn't talk about as it seeped into my world - certainly not to BD with his heart attack or my children who were only here for a short visit. I didn't want to trouble them. I wasn't even sure this was real pain and not just some selfish reaction to being around someone who was really sick. I secretly worry that my sisters are right and I am a selfish pig who thinks it's all about MeMeMeMeMe. I didn't want to talk to the doctor if I wasn't really in pain. I didn't want him to know just what a hypochondriac I really am. No doubt about it - I am really scared of sickness and if I see it in one place I can see it lurking outside every window.
But the truth is in December I was in pain. Lots of pain. Unable to sleep pain. Sick to my stomach pain. Familiar shoulder pain that, off and on, over the course of almost a decade, several doctors and I have tried to find a solution to. We've looked at heart ... because of shooting pain down my left arm. We've looked at spine, especially neck, because of the tingling and faint numbness in my left hand. We've concentrated mostly on the neck and we just haven't found anything concrete.
I finally did make a doctor's appointment and immediately began to feel better - which just made me more sure that I would get that dread diagnosis - the one every woman hears far too often: "STRESS" Well duh. Sure. I was under stress. Who isn't? I was also in pain.
Fortunately, my doctor took me seriously. He's an O.D. rather than an M.D. and he manipulated my arm and shoulder till tears sprang into my eyes. And he prescribed physical therapy for my rotator cuff. Happily I'm a good candidate for exercise treatments since I actually love exercise. And in just over a week I'm feeling so much better I'm almost giddy. I told the therapist on Tuesday that one of the exercises he gave me felt so good I could do it the rest of my life.
"That's exactly what I expect you to do" he told me with a twinkle in his eye.
And so - perhaps at least one New Year's Resolution is to do the PT exercises ... every day for the rest of my life.
So.
So TheQueen has been down in the dumps but obviously, if she can talk about it, she's on the mend. And I am.
One thing that came out of the Heart Attack was the decision to put in central heat and we have been interviewing contractors and talking to people with all sorts of heating systems. We've about narrowed down our choice of heat source and are now only have to pick a contractor. We're waiting for their bids to come in. In more house improvements, it looks like we'll be getting a new front door. BD is going to look at one a carpenter found tomorrow. It's a complete unit with door, transom and side windows and it exactly fits our door opening. We've talked about this almost as long as we've talked about putting in central heat. It's rather thrilling to think they will both happen this year. There Will Be Photos.
As well, little tendrils of creativity have stirred beneath the soil of my discontent: A twinge of excitement when I looked at the two bags of knitting beneath my bedside table - A hum of energy coursing into my fingers when I looked at a new art book full of interesting exercises. I am reassured that life will return to TheCastle - the new and improved castle at that - and more, and less pitiful, posts will appear.
Tomorrow.
At Tara.
