Parallel Reality
The first time I realized just how different my reality was from that of other people was several years ago when I was recounting a visit to my rheumatologist to a couple of friends. I talked about how one of the assessment tools she used in the physical exam was to press on the sides of the middle joint of my fingers and I forget exactly how it came about, but my friends told me it wasn't normal that this hurt. And I had one of those moments where the world comes to a screeching halt, complete with that needle across-a-record sound and I looked at them, gobsmacked. Really?? Really, they said. And then I squeezed the sides of the middle joint on their fingers and they kept telling me it didn't hurt and I don't think I really believed them, because of course it hurts. This had been the way it had always been for me and although I knew that other people didn't have swollen joints or that particular bone grinding pain, this small aspect of my reality had never registered as being because of the RA. It wasn't until I began taking Enbrel that I checked and lo and behold, when your RA is under control, it doesn't hurt to squeeze the sides of your middle finger joint. Who knew?
This weekend, I had another one of those moments. The Boy and I were having a conversation and I was describing how a specific tendon was giving me problems where it attaches to the bone and he remarked that I had an interesting relationship with my body. Oh? I inquired and he proceeded to tell me that regular people are only vaguely aware of how their body works as they move through their day and certainly not tuned into the exact spot where a tendon attaches unless they had a bad injury. And yet again, I was gobsmacked at this peek into a reality so different from mine. I can't always feel all the places where my body's collections of tendons and ligaments attach to various other bits of me, but there are enough of them that are vocal at one time or another that I am exquisitely aware of the construction of my body. So, seriously?
It must be so wonderfully quiet where you people live.
Comments
Of course what makes your awareness of your body even more unique is that you know enough anatomy to be able to name whatever damn tendon is acting up. For many of us we just know that occasionally there's this thing that we feel around a certain place. Highly specific and scientific huh?
My ongoing physical pain is not what it once was. But I once happily accepted an invitation to a baby shower given by a friend I hadn't seen in far too long. I knit something for the baby, showed up--and it was being held in the woman's lovely garden. Outside. At noon. Oh, but we have umbrellas, see? (And a white concrete patio, very good for reflections.)
It never occurred to her that it might be a problem, it never occurred to me that not everybody has to have a wall of glass between them and the UV, not everyone has lupus, and I spent most of the party in the kitchen pretty much by myself.
I did finally go outside for awhile, knowing how stupid that was but needing fervently to show support to a woman who was celebrating the coming birth of a grandchild after the death of a child, and then I had the eye damage to show for it.
My pain isn't anywhere near yours, and I've knocked it way back, But I was starting to think everybody else was like this and I was a wimp.
I've been on break from school, and sleeping 10-12 hours a day. I had a couple of pain-free days. That was a nice break.
And my pain isn't as loud as yours, because I'm not using a chair yet. Still...it's pretty vocal.
Sending you warmth and hugs.