eeyore_grrl: (2016/17)

		hike

my back throbs 
	a steady staccato of pain
my shoulders 
	knotted, knotting as i write
	pain shooting down to my right elbow
my knees
	crackling louder than bonfire and celebration
	the left one is torn inside


I wish it would all just take a hike
disappear
vanish into thin air
just for a minute, an hour, a day, a lifetime

just
	vanish

if my pain were to disappear i would not mourn for it
	i would wait nervously
		scared of its return
	but i wouldn’t put it on milk cartons
	or interview people about it on tv

i would just

wait

i would slowly learn to be who i am again
walking faster
	stretching further
i would return to yoga
	calm and strength in one

i would play more board games with my family
	and sit on the floor building legos with my son

i would call my friends and suggest that we take a hike
	that we build up to weekend backpacking trips again

i would camp under the stars in nothing but a bivy sack to protect me

i would not miss my pain

but for now it is pretty constant
	the knot in my shoulder tightening across my neck
		leaving more parts of me to hurt
		leaving me with choices of medication and hot baths
			concoctions and cauldrons to heal me

		i remain unhealed



eeyore_grrl: (carey purple streaks)
Please go to the following link and VOTE. About half the group I am in (the last one) is being left out of the game. Your vote counts. http://therealljidol.livejournal.com/888626.html




"All lies and jest still, a man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest."  simon and garfunkel


			hear me.

listen, let my knees sing to you the songs of their people
 	crackling like fire
		      like gears with no lubrication
			moving ever forward
				    ever aging against themselves

	my toe heals from being cut open
	bunion surgery at 40
		I age with a false smile
		I age with an awkward pain scale
the doctor says I’m fine
	just a little physical therapy 
	lose some weight
		lighten the load i carry
		lighten the load that is me

he sees me as

	BMI
    a magic diagnoses

	obese
		size 18

my complaints no longer matter
i am diagnosed         f a t.
	fibromyalgia is real
		but the pain isn’t

i am told no opiates
	      no muscle relaxers 
	      nothing to calm my nerves
	       or sing me to sleep
i am told that even ibuprofen should be more limited

chronic pain is long term 
	learn to wait it out
	learn to b r e a t h e past it

i learn that my grimaces
		 my yelps
		 my eleven thousand steps a day
		 my massages and my psychiatrist
		 my 7 on the pain scale fall on deaf ears

	diagnosis complete my thoughts are released to the still air

he hears what he sees
	he thinks he understands

my doctor thinks I am fat
my laughs fall like tears
my pain is more than bmi
my pain deserves to be heard

	I  deserve to be  heard




And you can, of course, watch and hear me read if you prefer:




go here to read more entries: http://therealljidol.livejournal.com/887291.html?view=80432123#t80432123
eeyore_grrl: (carey purple streaks)

		the fiction of the fix


we like to believe in answers
	                 in absolutes
                          
we like to believe that life makes sense
and that everything has a cure

doctors are no more than medicine men
dressed in white coats
suit and tie or scrubs
we expect answers
as they whirl around us 
sterile amulets draped about them

my body felt torn and old
simply walking and breathing hurt
sleep was agony

and i went to find answers
my body demanded something
my mind crumpled under the pressure

I begged for a fix
         a cure

but there was nothing that they could do
no proven answers
no proven name
just a vague diagnosis, a syndrome
(fibromyalgia)

i saw multiple doctors
different names, different credentials
i tried different drugs
but the cure i sought
                 (the cure i seek)
is fictional

the salve to cure my screaming joints
     my aching muscles
the exercise to quiet my body and mind
so that sleep is heavy and deep
the fix is only fiction
           is only a dream

i walk with fire in my body
i will smile in defiance of my ailments

at least in my mind	
			i will stand strong 
until fiction becomes reality


	


See and hear me read here:



Fibromyalgia is no joke, yo. It sucks tacks. Not mentioned in the poem is that consistent yoga helps me. As well as hot baths, hot tub, and hot showers. 1-2 weeks of a flexeril three times a day might be helping me go into something like remission, but the jury is still out on the cause of my recent remissions. It's also really hard to accept some of the limitations that come with chronic pain. For instance, I don't typically have time to shower before I go downstairs to get the kidlet ready for school; I finally got a cane to help me not involuntarily wince for every one of the 17 steps. It helps, but I surely don't want to think of myself as needing a cane... Gah. The fix becoming reality would be really, really nice.


If you like what you see here go vote: http://therealljidol.livejournal.com/787328.html

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