Poverty Is Not an Accident

Poverty Is Not an Accident
Nelson Mandela

Wednesday, April 07, 2004

ouchies

You are reading http://livinginthehood.blogspot.com

I fell alseep at about 3:30 yesterday afternoon and woke up at 2:30am this morning. I could still sleep, but my body hurts from lying in bed so long.

My muscles are SCREAMING! So are my joints.

I may nap awhile longer. I MAY just stay awake for the day. I can always go to bed early tonight.

A week's worth of volunteering, plus all the housework and gardening, just wore me out.

I really have no warning when this is going to happen, so I can't plan for one of these marathon naps. I just don't wake up for hours and hours.

Scares me: what if this happened at the radio station? They have a sofa there; sometimes, I lie on it when I'm in a lot of pain. I could wake up hours later. Worse, someone could find me there and either think I'm a total flake, or steal my backpack or something.

But I'm doing hard, physical work and my diet's not up to par yet. I was thinking, yesterday, about my ancestors: poor whites, slaves, Cherokees on the run from the government. I can imagine that all my ancestors knew the kind of pain I'm in.

It's a bitter pain that can't be consoled. It's like another entity: a huge, angry child, in full tantrum, that demands placation, even as I have no resources to satisfy it. I accomodate my entire life around pain. My clothing, how I carry things, where I go, how long I stay, what I do: it's all based on how much pain I can endure.

I try to imagine my ancestors, walking behind plows; babies on backs; hauling milk, firewood, water; sewing; canning; building log cabins; grooming horses; collecting chicken eggs; butchering hogs; harvesting...all in this pain.

No wonder there's so much history of alcoholism in my family. Alcohol does, temporarily, relax muscles and numb pain centers.

But I can't drink worth a hoot anymore. I feel the oxygen deprivation almost immediately in my muscles. And the dehydration.

I tried smoking weed for awhile. But weed is too strong these days: it takes over too much. I don't have enough control. Even inhaling only one puff. It's just too strong. And, since I'm weak anyway, it makes me dizzy and uncoordinated. I have to fight those too much already; why add to the difficulties?

I'm a big woman, in a tiny, cramped house; I don't need to run into things and bruise myself.

My only hope for relieving symptoms is asprin. Not ibuprofin, not acetominiphine: asprin. It's also good for the heart. I try to only take it when I can't stand the pain anymore. I don't believe in masking symptoms. Pain tells my body when I've reached the threshold of my limitations. I don't want to lose the warning, or I could hurt myself even worse, thinking I'm ok. I don't want to be numb.

Asprin helps. And I need to buy some more. I just buy the generic, 100 pills for one dollar.

But I know my diet is affecting my pain and strength levels.

Once all this good produce, whole grains and soy kick in, I hope I'll start feeling better. I need to remember: I'm malnourished. I'm not lazy; I'm starved.

It certainly isn't because I don't TRY to do stuff. Good god, I walk more than most ablebodied people I know! Even with the scooter! I'm forever more getting off the scooter and walking: up steep hills, over rough terrain...to save the scooter from damage. And I'm pushing it, too, even with the throttle up.

Nope, I'm not lazy; I'm weakened.

I work like a damn mule.

I'm watching the first Star Trek movie, where Shatner is still slim and has all his hair...

I think I'll make me something to eat. I still haven't thawed out the last 4 chicken thighs. I should probably do that. My protein's been beans, rice, cheese and eggs. I feel like sinking my teeth into a big chunk of meat.

Food stamps come tomorrow. I'll spend as much as I can on pure protein: meat, cheese, etc. I can now get produce, grains, etc from Food Not Bombs.

Soon, the garden will be producing, too.

Sure wish I could buy canning jars and lids on foodstamps....

No comments: