Tuesday, May 14, 2013

A Falling-down Life

Wisdom of the Elders:
If I want your advice, I'll ask for it.
I seem to have left out something very important.  Last Thursday I fell off the second rung of a stepstool flat on my back, hit my head and one buttock. I've been generally confused and scattered since then, so much that I didn't even see my good doctor, who's a DO, until yesterday.  I was afraid I'd cracked something in my back, because the pain has been fierce, but X-rays didn't show anything new.

This doctor is good with physical exam, too, and felt that the pain is from my neck seizing up to protect the head, which he says is natural when you fall.  That radiates down my back, which already has various problems. So I have been told to take it very easy.  Heat, painkillers.  Call him if I want to be put to sleep.  I wish.

On Saturday someone I called for consolation made me angry by coming up with a stream of advice, quite outdid herself.  There are some people you just vow to keep in your life, no matter what.  So on Sunday I got over that, but then another woman made me mad all over again by calling me just as if our e-mail exchange earlier that week had simply not penetrated at all.  I won't go into that (but did have to express my feelings in a previous post). And I had to restrain myself from calling her back.  Too angry to dare speak.  Sometimes that's the best you can do.

The important thing is that my doctor diagnosed a concussion.  So. That explained how difficult many things have been.  And my inability to put up with people I usually try to understand and allow for their MAJOR huge compassion deficiencies. There.  That felt better.  And all this on top of my usual bipolar crap.  Just when I had gotten over that statin thing and felt like I was having a life.  I think some compassion is in order, and since I'm not getting it anywhere else, I'm working on giving it to myself. I know that some of you know how much we need to do that.
With a bow,
Jeanne

6 comments:

  1. Melanie from AustinMay 15, 2013 at 9:46 AM

    Oh my goodness! I feel for you, honey. Ouch and crap! I hope you get back to feeling like you're having a life with more enjoyment and less pain very soon.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thank you, Melanie. Old age, all these new difficulties. It's good to know you stick with me. And I relate to your accurate expression - sums it up. Ouch, crap!
    With a bow,
    Jeanne

    ReplyDelete
  3. I am sorry you fell, my mom fell off a stool she stood on to photograph(much pain since, with cracked discs) which makes me wonder when does one feel that they are not as capable as when we are younger. Do we have to fall to realize this truth and even then does it sink in? I am just a stubborn as anyone, even with my brain injury…so I see me in you. In fact, I can see me(you) standing back on a stool to prove you are "all better."

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh I certainly have that self in my background, and had to total my car (and self-image) about 10 years ago before it gave up. All at once it was, "I just can't." Actually, the accident put me into a driving phobia for a while.

      Aging creeps up on you, inches toward you every day. Then, surprise!

      To be honest, I have had to learn everything the hard way. I marvel that I didn't kill myself with this one. Tom is the same way, had to have 7 stitches after a fall before Christmas because he just liked to take a few steps (often) without his Lofstrand. He hit a sharp corner of furniture on the way just above an eye. It scared me to death and I've given him a lot of grief about it ever since.

      I think that's kind of the secret to a certain amount of success in Zen retreats - you just keep sitting until it kills you. Or maybe that's sort of different....Anyway, with every event I do learn something. I wish the process went faster. Thank you for your empathy. I cherish your readerness.

      Delete
  4. What good is the sympathy (or empathy) of others? It can't erase the past. It can't keep you from growing old. It can't take away your physical pain. It can’t heal your body from it's injuries. It can't help you come to terms with growing old. It can't give you wisdom. It can't unbind you from your attachments.

    So, what good is it? Just asking.


    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It did feel good, John, whenever I got it, like eating a piece of good cake. But you know, not substantial.

      I've never had any sympathy to match the kindness of the Zen masters I've worked with, and even two I've just written to who never met me, but responded as if I were...well, their own very favorite daughter. I am working right now with Dosho Port, in his new internet training program, a pilot course with just 25 of us right now. It has been exactly like a lifeline. Our first talk on Skype I found myself telling him I was so afraid to die, maybe because he wrote about Katagiri's death, and others, and how even these realized people don't want to die and find the pain hard to bear. This, and the study of Dogen, the e-mails, it's been what I so needed at this point in my life, which from the sound of things, is much like yours. And you do have my empathy. I hope it is not a painted rice cake.

      All of this was exactly what led Shakyamuni to leave his home in search of some peace. Sometimes life is so difficult.
      Thank you for writing. Being read, a response, feels good.
      With a bow,
      Jeanne

      Delete