Gifts Of Endurance

Firstly, from the depths of my heart I want to thank those of you who took the time to reach out in the wake of my last post. Together, you became the tethers, securing the net that held me, suspending me just enough to avoid hitting 'rock bottom'. In a very real sense – you saved my Christmas. • @shadowspub, @snook & @jackmiller – you are genuine angels.

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Christmas Eve

After penning that post, I crawled into bed, wanting nothing more than to find respite – begging sleep to relieve me from pain's excruciating clutches. Yet no such clemency was afforded me that night.

Instead, I struggled just to lay down; during these acute 'episodes', my neck simply cannot bear the weight of my head without the aid of both hands. I realize it's difficult to imagine, but – trust me – transitioning from sitting to reclining without the use of my hands is decidedly difficult with a spinal fusion, especially with significant degeneration of my lumbar spine and sacrum. But I digress...

By the time I finally had my head on a pillow, the ordeal had further aggravated the already fierce spasm, and no position I could find would alleviate the strain. Each shift between positions was pure agony, as though a doberman pinscher had me in a stubborn death-grip, and every...single...tiny...movement made it bite down even harder.

However torturous, I kept trying, determined to find that elusive sweet spot that would allow me just enough reprieve to fall asleep. Every shift required far too much effort, making me cry out as tears spilled into my ears, soaking my hair and drenching the pillows. A few times, my yelps were so loud I was sure I'd wake my neighbors.

Hours passed this way. By 4am, I was despondent.

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After a weary, inner pep-talk, I forced myself through yet another painful transition, gritting my teeth as I labored into a sitting position, then carefully traversed the ladder down from my sleeping loft. I stacked some pillows on my couch, plugged in my heating pad and carefully leaned myself against it.

I was so desperately exhausted by then and feeling so acutely alone.

For about half an hour, I did my best to breathe through it, patiently waiting for that moment when the doberman's bite might begin to release....even just a little – maybe just enough to allow for slightly deeper, less labored breaths. No such grace was forthcoming.

I took stock of whom I might call at such an hour on Christmas Eve. The realization that there was no one local whom I felt comfortable reaching out to – no one whom I trusted would tolerate being so burdened by my suffering – that just magnified my discomfort. (I know, intellectually, that such notions aren't true, but logic is hard to come by in moments of such acute stress.)

I briefly considered calling 911. That's the first time pain associated with my back has been so unbearable as to make me contemplate visiting the ER. That...tells you something about how bad it really was.

Instead, I researched the contraindications of mixing Flexeril (a muscle relaxer) with Gabapentin (for nerve pain.) I'd already taken a full dose of the former, of which I generally take only half. It clearly wasn't helping at all.

So – I swallowed a 300mg capsule of Gabapentin, dragged my heating pad onto my loft, endured the misery of laying myself down again, closed my eyes...tried not to move...and prayed for mercy.

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Christmas Day

I awoke in exactly the same position about 7 hours later. Much to my chagrin, the pain had not subsided...not even slightly.

I lay there, motionless, for almost an hour, dreading the task of somehow lifting myself up once more. Eventually, hunger got the better of me and gave me the impetus to endure it. As unlikely as it sounds, being upright was more tolerable than laying down, so making myself something to eat wasn't too terribly difficult.

Once fed, I resumed my semi-reclined position on the couch and spent some time in The Alliance voice chat with @snook, @jackmiller and @thehive. Snook was adorably relentless in getting me there, knowing how much I needed support. Their sweet company elevated my spirits considerably, helping me find the strength to move forward with my day.

A shower further revived me; standing beneath super hot water – letting it pummel that angry spot – made the doberman finally begin to loosen its grip, jussst a touch. Imbibing a potpourri of anti-inflammatories provided additional relief, allowing me to more easily draw in oxygen, which in turn made it that much easier to withstand the pain.

Though I'd seriously doubted my ability to ride out the day, much less make the pie I'd planned for, nor attend the 'orphans' potluck I was invited to – against all odds...I pulled it off. Sure, I was a bit slow-moving and therefore quite late to arrive, but I made it. And...I did so with a smile, feeling genuinely accomplished and proud of myself.

Had I not been honest with those in attendance, they'd have been none the wiser, knowing nothing of the battles I'd suffered through the night before.

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All The More Delicious...

Few things make me smile quite as wide as tickling people's tastebuds. I don't do it very often, but I genuinely enjoy experimenting with sweets. To my delighted surprise, both delectable treats I made were a huge hit!

I'd thought I'd ruined the almond butter cups when the caramel separated, but the end result revealed nothing of that failure. They were (are) so divine – watching people bite into them brought me so much joy!

Some said it was the most incredible thing they'd ever tasted (no joke!) A girl who works at a popular, local, natural grocery called New Seasons suggested I could sell them there for $4 a pop (whaat?!?) I giggled as folks asked sheepishly if they might eat a second one. 'Of course!' I'd beam.

Of the 2.5 dozen I'd made, I managed to save just 5 to share with friends who weren't in attendance that night. I'd call that a grand success!

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And the crowning jewel...

I also made a raw, vegan, chocolate cream pie – organic, of course!

Though it took much longer to set than I would've liked, it was even more scrumptious than I'd imagined. The crust...woooah – the velvety, mousse-like filling...ecstatic eye-roll – the coconut whipped cream topping drizzled with melted dark chocolate...sooo much YUM!

My host said to me – with her signature, slightly sideways glance and gently upturned brow – 'You outdid yourself this year.'

Oh, yes – I most certainly did.

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The Sweetest Gifts

Somehow, the hardship that both proceeded and coincided with the preparation of these desserts made their flavor that much richer. It gave them character, just as it does me.

I couldn't have known, when I decided to make these treats, that I was building myself the most unlikely safety net – giving myself something solid to reach for and move towards...like a gently rocking buoy or a softly pulsing lighthouse, helping me find my way through the turbulence of my pain.

Perhaps I had no tree under which carefully wrapped parcels awaited me on Christmas morn, yet I received the most wonderful presents, all the same.

The gifts bestowed upon me are the most invaluable and precious:

• reminders of my considerable strength and resilience
• confirmation that I am loved and not nearly as alone as I feared
• gratitude for deep breaths, hot showers and good friends
• delightful smiles and sounds of pleasure from those who tasted my creations
• two, new recipes in my delicious bag of tricks

However lonely and uncertain my holiday's beginning, I could not have asked for a more satisfying and beautiful finish.

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^{For joining me as I navigate the vulnerable terrain of my physical dissonance – I thank you. There's such deeply entrenched shame and guilt that accompany chronic pain – a pervasive belief that our ceaseless struggle is a burden to others. For me, there's also the sticky fear of appearing weak, needy or pitiful. I share – not in hopes of garnering sympathy or to give myself a corner on suffering – I share because...giving voice to it, while scary, loosens its grip somewhat – even if only on the emotional level. • I bow in heartfelt gratitude for all those willing to listen, without judgement or pity. Your unassuming presence is a genuine blessing.
xo, zippy}

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