An interruption is one way to say it
Other descriptions are less classy
But don’t worry, I’ll behave
While feeling fat and sassy.

All of life is oft askew,
Just when I think it’s right
Some body part acts up
Saying, “Awe, go fly a kite.”

I don’t know what’s happening
I think I’m melting away
But I do know I am changing
Into someone else? I can’t say.

My hair is falling out
My nails won’t grow,
My teeth once pretty
No longer form a row.

My waist once slender
Suffers steroid morph
My sitter once splendiferous
Would look good on a dwarf.

Each day when I awaken
I expect life to be fixed
When my feet touch the floor
All those images are nixed.

I think that I could stand it
All the changes I’ve addressed
But having pain each day, well
Can you shout STRESSED?

I’ve tried so many things;
Ran tests from head to foot
Seems I’m unusually “blessed”
I’m told, after teetering on kaput.

The question I face daily
Is what do I do next?
Being caught by the Coyote?
Well, that’s not in the mix!

I usually don’t use TNT
No anvils since the Wild West
Guess I have no choice
But to dig in; then rest.

I have trouble with compromise
Makes me irritable at best;
I’m certain, at times,
This is God’s aptitude test.

I wonder how it’s graded,
If it’s to make me deep?
I think that’s China I see
So, that’s not it; BLEEP, BLEEP!

Guess I’ll just keep trekking,
One stair, one foot at a time
Eyes wide open and expectant
Reminding myself, this is my prime time.

First of all, let’s all agree puppies are cute.

Youngsters and puppies can get away with so much, don’t you think?

Cute, however, isn’t everything; there’s a lot to be said for experience.

Maybe that’s a bit of “sour grapes” as we grow older.

Drooling is cuter when you’re young.

When you’re young and drool, people say, “OOH, and AAH.” When you’re older they say, “EEW and OH NO!”

Old dogs know where they should and want to go…and I do mean “go.”

If they leave a “message” somewhere they ought not to, well, there’s a perfectly good reason for that…in their thinking if not yours.

We don’t like change because it is uncomfortable.

Change means we have to learn “new tricks.”

We agree learning to do something in a new way is a terrible nuisance, especially if we don’t feel well.

“New tricks” are uncomfortable because we like the familiar.

We are always entitled to ask, “What’s in it for me?”

Change is more difficult than when you learned whatever it is the first time around.

We know we’re not supposed to but sometimes, we’d like to bite the hand that feeds us.

Hey, we’re only mere mammals.

Cool wet grass is impossible to resist.

Some days, we could roll on forever.

You can’t roll uphill.

Sometimes when you’re in a rush or it’s raining outside, you have to pee on the run.

Don’t pee or poop on the hill you’re going to roll around on.

We look forward to dinner and believe it is best when we don’t have to cook it.

Cans are best unless you’re really young and have good teeth to chew that dry stuff.

Just because something looks real doesn’t mean it is. Fake meat?

Yes, we’ll sit up for a treat… duh?

We prefer it if the barber or groomer didn’t pull too tightly on that comb.

There is a direct correlation between our teeth and our “fur.”

We all deserve to be treated with care.

Some days we’re hygienically challenged and not sure which end smells the worst.

A tight leash is a nasty thing to endure.

A collar is more easily tolerated if it’s got glitz and class.

We all agree on one lyric which is, “I gotta be me.”

We all prefer fresh water every day.

None of us want to drink anything with leaves, blades of grass or slobber in it.

We often growl but we don’t really mean it.

Growling simply means we are “happiness challenged.”

Along the path of life there are splinters and thorns.

Sometimes they end up going where they aren’t supposed to go.

There is usually someone to help you get them out and you shouldn’t growl at them or try to bite them.

Sometimes, when you’ve had all you can take, then you must growl.

It’s a highly guarded secret that growling, howling and yelping feel good. This is not true for whelping.

Take care of your paws, you need them; if not now, later.

Medicine doesn’t always taste good; it’s not supposed to or everyone would want it all the time.

Some mammals want to be medicated all the time.

You don’t want to be one of them.

Obedience school is a good thing if taken in moderation.

Sniffing is okay; snorting isn’t.

Tail wagging is encouraged…unless you have a very bad back.

Compassion seems to come naturally to the four-legged mammals; more so than the two-legged kind. They have to be taught.

Pets don’t usually feel sorry for themselves and if they do, whimpering briefly is allowed and usually is significant.

Humans revel in whimpering.

Licking wounds is okay for pets but discouraged in humans.

Once you’ve tasted, chased and bounced a bright yellow tennis ball, there is no turning back.

It’s okay to leave an impression on your doctor or vet as long as it isn’t an impression of your teeth.

We all share a love for life. Animals gravitate toward it more easily than humans do.

Our four-legged friends forge on without self-pity and have much to teach us.

Heal!

Sue now has a Facebook page — check it out and “like” her now!

We want spring as we want healing life but deep within we wonder if we have another effort left in us. Where do we find the strength to follow this cycle again? We know the process as it has cycled around so many times, annually dependable and usually, welcome. We are tired, worn, chilled and wondering where the next day will provide the strength we need. We don’t expect to leap tall buildings, capture fame nor fortune because our expectations have become more basic.

Have we grown accustomed to expecting less as we settle for desiring the basics of life like the next breath, a day or even one hour without pain and just enough courage for half a day of domestic life as it calls to us? Oh dear, the sun is shining and each ray uncovers a dust ball, a spiders web or some other mischief occurring during the winter now melting away. This season of rebirth should excite us as we plan a trip, buy a new patio chaise lounge or plan a garden of herbs or vegetables. Unfortunately or perhaps fortunately, we have a shorter list of what spring will bring. I often wonder, what is the difference between facing reality and giving up on a dream? I often wonder if the cycles and seasons of life will be altered in some mysterious way, just this season alone. It would prove interesting to see the cycles reversed but we know it will not be. Perhaps God in his wisdom knew we cannot take more cold, more sludge or more mud. It’s not really the elements of this world that we dislike, because we know they have beauty in all stages, but it is ourselves who really frustrate us.

Our memories hurt as we recall what we once could do and can do no longer. We no longer build snowmen, stomp through mud puddles or slide down a grassy knoll on our rear pockets painting our blue jeans green and slimy brown. We’ve lost our childlike wonder at challenge upon challenge and now dread what must be done.

How is that renewal? Just because we have a bucket load of problems both physically challenging and mentally stressful, can’t we rise to the season and embrace new life? I don’t honestly know. What do you think? Can you? It is a question each of us has to answer for ourselves. Let us look at the choices before us. We can enter spring with the extra few pounds from winter, muscles a bit stale from hovering in the warmth indoors, and our spirits tightly wound; of that we are assured. But what follows is up to us, individual, different from each other and unique. Perhaps there is beauty, hope and renewal when we each search our hearts and find that individual hidden desire, dream and secret joy. What will it be? A new rose blooming on an old climber, a yard of yellow gingham, a new shirt or a trip to see a loved one; the list could be interminable.

Each of us awakened by spring face more decisions as life outside is brighter. Do we look or do we decide it isn’t worth the effort. Just one little peek out a window to see a Robin on a branch can yield such a reward for a broken spirit. A fawn following his mother across a vacant forested lot can bring a zing to the saddest heart. The white roots crawling out of a pot that longs to be put into the ground have reaching tendrils like hands reaching for sun and sustenance. All of them spell life and hope.

Renewal comes for nature but will it come for you and me? It could be up to us whether to answer the knocking on the door. We may be weakened by the many forms of misery life has heaped upon us but are we truly pounded down into the floor? I don’t think so because we’re still alive.

It only takes one spark to build a fire and start its roar. It takes just one root looking for nitrogen to grow into a plant. A wee babe begins as a fertilized ovum and grows into a beautiful human being. I always find it amazing and life affirming to see the power of growth, cell upon cell, multiplying and dividing, building life. I planted a sad looking poppy plant three days ago and as if it was waiting to go on the stage for a performance, this morning its droopy blooms are standing erect, number fourteen in all and one has burst into a riot of orange with an ebony center. If that plant could sing, I think I would hear the Hallelujah chorus.

There is a tiny primrose that is returning for the third year. Covered and protected by brown leaves it waits and is already revealing tiny hot pink buds showing eagerness to have a taste of sunshine so it can bloom larger with each day. I wonder if we have a tiny bud growing within our spirits and painful bodies.

Once again, an effort is required by us. Since we aren’t plants, bears or fawns, we have to choose; to move, to reach out, to clean, to smile and to be happy.

I suspect each of have the bud of a dream if we have the courage to look for it. It is easier to stay in the dark and the pain than to make an effort but there is life at the end of that effort…that is the reward.

Are we alive or are we dead? Can you be a little bit alive? Can you be a little bit dead? In early spring when we work in the garden, even if it is to tend only one pot, the question is constantly there. Is this alive or is it dead? We clip away the hollow dead stems, because there is no sign of life in them. Occasionally a stem has all the appearance of being dead but on the farthest end, reaching out is a new leaf or two. Let’s agree, shall we, to look for those tiny buds within ourselves and to feed them with love, belief and anticipation. We are alive. Let’s act like it and grasp all we can. We may have to do things differently, but that’s creative. We may have pain each day, but that teaches us compassion and we may not be as we once were but we may be better.

You and I may not be frisky as a kitten but we can still shake our bootie; once or twice. We may not reach out like a mighty Oak but we can stand as tall as our bodies will allow and do our best to strengthen them. One thing we each can do, of this I am certain; we each can bloom.

Sue now has a Facebook page — check it out and “like” her now!

If you’re in pain today as you read this, you are probably looking for hope. I also live with pain and like you, am a victim, a patient and yet, I continue to look for hope. It’s a shame we can’t store hope, put it in the bank, and hide it under the mattress or save it for a rainy day. It often rains on those of us who live this way. Each and every day when we awake we have to grab the umbrella of hope and beauty is the source of hope; beauty is the mechanism that opens that umbrella. I live in Oregon therefore I know a great deal about rain. Often, when we’ve had a gray onslaught of showers or storms, for days on end, we hunker down with the hope the sun will come out tomorrow. I know. I’m not Ophan Annie but the song does apply. I know it’s corny but it is also a sweet song which has often been overlooked because it’s been over used. Oh come on. You know I love corny, therefore, let’s sing.

TOMORROW

The sun’ll come out tomorrow
Bet your bottom dollar
That tomorrow
There’ll be sun.

Just thinkin’ about tomorrow
Clears away the cobwebs
And the sorrow
Til’ there’s none!

When I’m stuck with a day
That’s gray and lonely,
I just stick out my chin and grin
And say, Oh!

The sun’ll come out tomorrow
So ya gotta hang on til’ tomorrow
Come what may Tomorrow! Tomorrow!
I love ya tomorrow!
You’re always a day a way!

Now, all together, let’s sing.

Don’t you feel better, at least a little better?

One last word about hope to quote the wise words of Martin Luther: “All which happens through the whole world happens through hope. No husbandman would sow a grain of corn if he did not hope it would spring up and bring forth the ear; how much more we are helped on by hope in the eternal.”

How does one explain the audacity of beauty? It just is. We know it when we see it and we feel its effect upon us. We do know it is purity, simplicity and life at its best. There are no rules as to where it will be found as we all observe from day to day; we see it in the eyes of a child, in the countenance of one we love who loves us and in the wag of a dog’s tale. Beauty, when we find it, goes straight for the heart. Those of us who live in the dark world of chronic pain suffer in the heart as much as or more so than the body. One cannot separate the two. The secret to allowing beauty to help us is to open our eyes, our lives and our hearts. Only a fool sits in a room with the shades drawn and complains of the weather. The truly blind are those who won’t take off their dark glasses yet complain of the clouds. If you and I focus only on our sorrow, our loss and our misery, it leaves little room for beauty, hope or a song. Hope that lives and is fed in the heart and spirit can out wrestle any physical pain ever invented. It aides us to rise above and gives us wings.

I urge you my friends to see life in a different way. If you never take the cover off a book, you never feel the fine binding. If you don’t smell and touch the soft petals of a flower you don’t absorb its true essence. If the words you speak are only and always to complain, how drab life becomes. If you only complain about the traffic outside your door, you never see the deer along the side of the road, the small child chasing a dog with a stick or the beauty of a single drop of rain as it falls during a blast of sun. With the sun upon them, they look like tiny floating parachutes of dried dandelions.

Don’t you find it fascinating that a tiny bulb of daffodils knows when it is time to pop out of the ground and is totally unaffected by either a downpour of rain or a melting sun. It just is. It stands proud, tall and delights in showing off for the world.

Beauty can be enjoyed alone or it can be shared. There seem to be occasions for both, don’t you think? When it is time to share, you’ll know. Like a tiny candle in the dark, if you try to cover it or hide it, it will go out. When you find something helpful, beautiful and uplifting, share it. I find we often are so eager to share the ugliness of life, why not share the beautiful as well, or perhaps more so. Others can usually find ugliness all by themselves; sometimes we need help to find beauty. Therefore, hug your child, give the dog a new bone, drag a piece of yarn across the floor for the cat and greet your loved ones with a smile.

There is a line in that old film DOC HOLLYWOOD which I’ve always loved. An old woman comes to see the doctor and complains she is seeing spots before her eyes. He removes her glasses and cleans off the lens. He hands them back to her and she proclaims, “I’m cured.” Let us all remove our metaphorical smudged lenses.

To quote Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything that is beautiful, for beauty is God’s handwriting—a wayside sacrament. Welcome it in every fair face, in every fair sky, in every flower, and thank God for it is a cup of blessing.”

Sue now has a Facebook page — check it out and “like” her now!

Naturally, when you create a beautiful photo or picture you are also viewing it. When you paint a project you enjoy, whether it be a fence or a painting, it brings you pleasure. Pleasure creates endorphins along with chocolate, berries, chili peppers, sex, exercise and massage to name only a few of the stimulants. Meditation also releases these pleasing endorphins. Wow. Just to get off subject for a moment but what a thought to imagine a life filled with those things. I guess we need to find a few of them that are possible and go for it. Why not?

Just a brief word on endorphins which are neurotransmitters produced by the brain to transmit signals to the nervous system. They can be found in the pituitary and in other parts of the nervous system and thus far, twenty types have been isolated in humans. They behave somewhat like morphine and opiates to alleviate pain and to basically, protect us. They are responsible for aiding the immune response, create feeling of euphoria, effect appetite and we all have known or read about the release of them during and after exercise.

My eldest sister suffered terribly from psoriatic arthritis and when she could no longer work as a fashion buyer for a large department store, she never had idle hands. They may have hurt often, along with several other joints, but she kept them busy. She drew and painted wonderful pictures of old barns dilapidated and full of pastoral peace. She worked on needle work such as needlepoint and other projects. She made and sold beautiful hand-made jewelry which brought pleasure and purpose to her life and to others.

When I could no longer work as an RN, I subconsciously found myself also filled with the need for diversion and creativity. My body was filled with pain but my mind was still buzzing, especially in the early days when the doses of prednisone were higher. My engine was running but my car was broken down. One day my husband and I were sitting in the living room, talking and I began to cry over the non-direction of my life. I was engrossed in self-pity for all I had lost and worried about our loss of my income in our two income home. My dear man looked at me and said, out of pure frustration, “Sue, I don’t care what you do as long as it’s not chewing on my ass.” Sweet talker, huh?

I began to search my heart for all the things I never had time to do while raising children and working as a nurse. I began to read about quilting and doing it, took up the tedious skill of counted cross stitch with fervor, and returned to writing in a diary I had kept long ago. It has always helped me to be able to express in writing what is going on in my heart and head. During the years after high school I had gone to college and majored in English literature. I always loved poetry and began to write it. I was told by family members that rhymed poetry was out of date and straight prose was in. I wrote both, but it was the rhyming that usually came out. One day I wrote a poem about driving down the main street of town with the top down on my convertible and a carload of boys who honked and began to flirt with me; that is until they pulled up next to me and saw I was middle-aged. I called it Convertible Mama and enjoyed it because it made me laugh. I also found writing filled my mind and gave me pleasure; those faithful old endorphins again. I gussied up some nerve and took the poem into a small local newspaper where we lived at that time and asked the editor if he ever published poems. He said he usually did not but liked my poem so much he decided to publish it. He then asked me if I’d be interested in writing a column for him or being a reporter for him. I told him I had physical limitations and wasn’t really blood thirsty enough to be a reporter but asked if I could write a humorous column about life. He said, “Yes,” and my column which I titled Valley View Askew was born. It was great fun and I wrote it for six years, until we moved to the Northwest to get me out of the blazing California sun. Severe photosensitivity is not much of a problem here in the wettest part of Oregon.

Writing has been the main focus of my creativity although I have tried many other things. For instance, two years ago I thought it would be fun to try watercolors. Since I can’t sit for any length of time a class on the subject was out so I just jumped into it. It was great fun but I have no talent for it. I painted a picture of my daughter’s wedding bouquet which was red baby rosebuds surrounded by lace. She liked it because it was from me and was a gift I framed in an old-fashioned oval frame and keeps it beside her bed. In truth, it looks more like a pepperoni pizza. You see, you don’t have to be good at your creativity. That isn’t really the point. The whole idea to get those endorphins racing is to be creative, produce something and get your mind off of the pain you are experiencing.

There was a wonderful article in the Sept/Oct 2012 edition of Arthritis today about artwork and the role it plays in making patients feel better. Written by Esther M. Sternberg, MD, she explains the role of observing beauty for hospital patients. She shares the story of one hospital in Dublin without windows in the bone marrow transplant unit and how Professor Shaun McCann started the “Open Window” project and commissioned murals to be painted on the walls of the windowless rooms. The artist chose bright colors of local events and the patients loved talking about them and the diversion was very effective. The patients were then allowed to choose other images of things they loved. The good feelings brought on by the release of endorphins led to healing, diversion and joy during a difficult time in their lives.

Whether you are creating beauty, enjoying it and observing it, both have an enriching effect on the mind and body. Now that I think of it, my dentist has clouds painted on the ceiling above his exam chairs and since my dentist office faces the Columbia River with its splendid view of the azure blue water and the passing ships, we are twice blessed. It’s difficult to feel beauty in a dental chair.

I urge you, my friends to examine your own lives and search your hearts and minds for areas of your life that are unexplored. “It ain’t over ‘til it’s over!” You have areas of interest, hidden talents or desires for expression that you have not explored. We all do. Therefore, go forth, just keep it relatively safe, keep it legal and go create. Your body will thank you for it.

Sue now has a Facebook page — check it out and “like” her now!

I was at our son-in-law’s lumber yard/hardware store a few days ago and the street front was filled with flats of new, incoming blooms. Strange, the effect that one single sign of spring had on me. I had to ask for a large box and fill it with hope in the form of blossoming plants and herbs. It was as if a package I was waiting for had arrived. Pastel pansies both large and small in lavenders, yellows and purples; tiny violas and white trailing blooms and a gallon pot of poppies filled my box. I had to satisfy the practical side of my nature and also purchase a pot of cilantro and one of Italian parsley. Now the box full of promise sits on the front porch, semi-protected from the elements, serving as a constant reminder spring is on the way. I watered them this morning while uttering, “Hang on. It won’t be long now.”

As we go through these rough years for many of us with chronic pain, beauty becomes more important than ever. It is such a close cousin of joy and inspiration and we crave all three. Beauty, they tell us is in the eye of the beholder making it relative to our taste, our customs and our needs. Beauty can be many things. It is a black horse, it is a gorgeous day, it is a newborn child and one poet pointed out, truth is beauty. Let me share just a few lines from John Keats.

ODE ON A GRECIAN URN

Beauty is truth, truth beauty, that is all

Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.

There are days I feel like a Grecian urn but do not feel like beauty personified. I feel much too used up and worn to be beautiful so I look for beauty in others, in other places and in beautiful things. Some days I feel as if I belong in the urn; would like to throw the urn or maybe just sell it at a swap meet. Unlike the urn which remains in most part, unchanged, we humans have to mark our time here by showing our wear and tear of life. Some of us are struck early, others late but most will know pain of one form or another. I see very little beauty in the pain that surrounds me and you. I do however see truth and if truth is beauty, then count me in.

It’s a heavy burden, living with constant pain. It is made so much lighter if we are truthful with ourselves, with our families and with our physicians. Truth sounds so simple, as I paraphrase Mark Twain who said we should always tell the truth because it’s easier to remember than a lie.

I have often seen patients, friends and family members who always found it so much more interesting to elaborate, fudge, fib or out and out lie about many things. I have never understood that stance. I know we can each have our version of the truth but basically, it remains sound and unchanged. We’re only human and if we don’t want to tell our age or our weight to someone else, we fudge a bit. On the larger issues of life, where do so many folks find the time and energy to play the game that lying involves. How do they keep it all straight? I had a relative who lied so often she forgot the truth. Oh well, to her the story had to be interesting, whether true or not.

As a nurse I always found it tragic when a blurry eyed fellow or a slurry tongued woman claimed they did not have too much to drink or indeed, with pupils popping, did not take too many drugs, legal or otherwise. Truth spills out of each of us whether we want it to or not. I guess it’s up to us to make that truth beauty.

We have a debt to ourselves to be truthful with our medical caregivers or we will confuse the issues and jeopardize our own health. I can see the beauty in that because not only is honesty safer but it is more noble, isn’t it? Trust grows out of honesty and that is also beautiful.

I love looking for beauty in this life I’ve been given and recommend it highly. Physical beauty wears as we age and become more ill but the beauty from within, born of truth, honor and love, that is amazingly beautiful to behold. Sometimes when I unlock my front door and walk into my home to be greeted by two little dogs, who are jumping and yelping as if I’d been off to the wars, I look at my home with fresh eyes and say to myself, “Someone happy lives here.”

Sue now has a Facebook page — check it out and “like” her now!

It won’t really help a thing
But your pain will surely end;
But so will all the glorious bits
More than you comprehend.

You see we’re all connected
Through this web of heartfelt caring,
Our family, friends and others
They all share in your despairing.

No, they cannot feel it
Quite as much as you
But they do see it
And can hand you Super-Glue.

One can’t take it everyday
This constant chronic pain
That’s why the love of others
Falls like summer rain.

As each new day arrives
With it comes the sun,
You feel a new day dawning
Yet fear the next re-run.

Chronic pain is different
Than pain that comes and goes
Thus we become quite good
At feeling bellicose.

Although we can be tempted
To throw a punch at times,
We have learned control
Have no energy for crimes.

We try to be good patients
Take our medications as prescribed
Only a fool ignores advice,
Or mixes other drugs or gets imbibed.

We talk to ourselves
Just to get commiseration
And eventually grow tired
Of all the aggravation.

The desire to escape
Occurs to us each day,
Why would anyone choose this life
And dare to whoop “Hurray?”

It’s difficult for each of us
Because it’s always there,
At first that’s all we see
Despair is everywhere.

We can’t find the controls as
Life spills out through our hands
Vocation, friends and family
Are now on shifting sands.

We’re faced with new decisions
Coming at us every hour
We cry out to the ether
“What happened to my power?”

Life echoes back the answer
“You never had the power.”
Thus once again life mocks,
“I’m both sweet and sour.”

The sweet is easy to accept
We relish it with glee
When the sour’s passed around
We always say, “Why me?”

That’s pretty much the way of it
Each day brings good and bad
As we pirouette between emotions
The world’s most fatigued Olympiad.

Then one day it hits us
Like lightning to the brain
We aren’t stale bread or moldy cheese
We can come in out of the rain.

We are a human, living thing
And we can change.
We can fight this force
And we can rearrange.

We’re not made of stone
There is much that we can do.
Muscles can be strengthened,
Life can be renewed.

We begin with accepting what is
Decide what can be changed,
Then fight like blazes against this force
After all this isn’t prearranged.

The power’s in the doing
Then we rise up from our bed or chair,
Feel the power of the sun on our faces
And fight with whatever’s there.

If there’s a staircase,
Then we climb it.
If a rope, we pull it
A need, we fill it.

We move, we aren’t the victims
We abhor defeat,
The stakes are much too high
To ever countenance retreat.

Where do we find the energy
When life has squished us flat?
How do we survive this bloody mess?
We must look inwardly for that.

The strength was always there
Although hidden from our view,
It just needs to be unlocked through
Belief and the desire to renew.

We can’t give up.
It’s not an option; that we know
For tomorrow will bring spring growth
And life, a brand new show.

Hold on with bleeding fingernails
They will also heal
Some delight is heading toward you
So stop acting like Camille.

Expect the best, turn off the news
Strengthen what you can;
And that guy with sickle and black-caped robe?
Well, just ignore the man.

Everything you need is there
Hidden deep within,
Keep digging and believing
Love yourself and don’t give in.

Sue now has a Facebook page — check it out and “like” her now!

Another one of my favorite expressions is on a tiny magnet on my refrigerator and is attributed to Dolly Parton as she says, “It takes a lot of money to look this cheap.” I love her humor and her self-deprecating way. I’m always amazed that very talented and well-endowed woman doesn’t constantly fall on her face. Gravity is a witch at times. On the wall next to my bed is another tiny wood sign, “If the broom fits, ride it.” In the hallway coming up our old stairs which are strewn with family photos in an assortment of interesting frames, I am greeted by a small sign which is just for laughs, “Trust in God. SHE will provide.”

I don’t believe there is anything quite as personal as what goes on between our ears and that includes our sense of humor. When a person doesn’t have a sense of humor, how do they make it through any of life’s little torments? They arrive in various packages besides health problems. Sometimes we forget that and can only see as far as our pain. “Pain sightedness” is very unwholesome and generally bad for your health.

Yesterday I was awakened by the sounds of street workers as they began to tear up our street to improve it. I had the fleeting thought that it would probably be the day for a loveseat I ordered about a month ago to finally be delivered from Virginia. As soon as the thought flew through my brain, the phone rang. Indeed. The trucking company would be out in about 30 minutes. I explained the situation to the trucker and he assured me he’d find a way. With city construction trucks and orange cones surrounding my home I didn’t see how that would be, but he’s a jolly, positive soul and assured me he’d make it work. When the time came for the delivery, I heard voices as the city workers and the truck driver were finding a place for him to park. I love a small friendly town. After the poor man unloaded the huge box, he had to leave it on the lift and knock on our door. “Ma’am, I think you’d better come out and look at it. It appears to be damaged.” Yes it was. Some fool had dropped it or found some way to be irresponsible in handling it; the carton was torn and had been taped up. When we pulled off the tape, a large gaping hole peered at me from within. Stuffing hanging out in a forlorn way when it became clear I would not be taking delivery on that particular piece of furniture. By this time the city guys with their hard hats on were interested to know what was going on and one of them hollered out to me, “Is it damaged?” It all struck me as so humorous. The poor truck driver was far more upset than I because he feared my reaction. I assured him it just meant I’d have to wait awhile longer and would have to be a bit rude with the folks at the factory and offer a few suggestions about their packing standards. He continued to stress out about it as he filled out the paper work for rejection and finally I heard myself say, “It’s okay. Nobody died.” That was followed by more hail and farewell in the street as he reloaded the shipment, accompanied by more kind words from the workers.

That whole incident reminded me of the relativity of humor and loss in our lives. We are all so very different yet so much alike. At various stages of our lives, living with chronic pain we find ourselves making a decision. Is this going to always be this way? Sometimes, the answer is yes. That is when we set out on the journey to find the most help for our money and our lives. We search for the best doctors, the finest treatments our insurance will allow and find ourselves thinking absolutely nothing is humorous. Our problems are the only ones we can see. Every problem adds to another and soon we’re overwhelmed and often buried beneath a pile of loss, bereavement, and self-centeredness which is displayed as self-pity. That doesn’t justify it as a good place to be. May I recommend humor and laughter as a way of life? It’s very effective for squelching pain. It fills your brain with something far more pleasant as well as accompanying endorphins.

Where does one find humor you might ask? First of all, consider your pain. Is it being treated well with medications, therapy and physical movement? Are you doing your share to help yourself or are you the lazy slug on the bed? I would start by cleaning up and fixing up. I know, that sounds strange but if we are clean and try to look our best, we then feel good about ourselves. That’s just basic life. Wash it, replace it or hide it.

Secondly, I look for humor. Put away that “slasher” flick unless it’s so campy it’s funny and read a book, call a friend or get out of yourself. Turn off the 24 hour news; what an awful idea that was. A brief trip to the market is usually full of funny incidents. You have to love human nature in all its forms and it’s usually there…humor. That is not unkind to see the humor in others, especially if you see it in yourself first. There are days I am scruffy, always wear a hat, drag along my steroid chins and fear to go near a mirror. Sometimes that’s all you can do, even with effort.

Try to think funny thoughts. Oh I know, send for the little white coated gents but it really works. Two days ago I had to go to the doctor and waited longer than usual before I went in because they had worked me in. I forgot to visit the restroom before I left and had to drive out to the vet’s office to pick up pills for one of our dogs. Needing to relieve myself, the thought occurred to me to ask the vet if they had a litter box I could use. Now, I realize that’s not all that funny but sometimes I crack myself up…and don’t get me started about cracks. That’s how I got into this fix many years ago but that’s for another day. Laugh. Open your eyes and look around you.

Yes, a thorn always hurts if you’re pricked but you have to go through them to get to the roses.

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We often find ourselves in one particularly pitiable state I like to call, “My life is worse than your life.” It’s only human of us to feel that way but it is most definitely a dead end road but a path we occasionally drive down. Life is hard enough for the jolly and the totally healthy but for those of us who face pain each day of our lives, usually in different parts of our bodies at the same time, life can throw us a pitch that hits us right in the eye. I often want to shout at life, “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” Yes, it’s true. I talk to myself and the air around me a great deal. I find it helps. Exhale all those nasty thoughts; don’t keep them in to fester and poison your life and attitude.

I learned long ago the circumstances of life cannot always be changed by me, physically and actually, but the attitude and emotion I allow it to rob from me is the true key. I cannot give all the bad circumstances in my body and my life power over me. I do confess there are days life pushes me a bit too hard and I would love to have a punching bag. My hands would suffer far more than the punching bag; I just have to avoid not using my poor dear husband or any other human as a verbal punching bag. Pain can be shared but it doesn’t help anyone in the process, however it is served. Incidentally, I also never kick the dog. What an awful thought.

There are certain days when bad news arrives regarding a loved one, something has gone wrong with or in the house, the car acts up and my body is really showing off. Those are the days, when life gangs up on me, that I dread the most. Yesterday was an example of this. The city is now starting to tear up the street in front of our house and it will go on for many months. Where am I going to park? How am I going to get my groceries into the house as well as my body? I awakened yesterday to the particularly disgusting experience of projectile vomiting when you have to run to the facility and pray you win. I am worried about a family member, have a friend fighting stage 4 cancer, another which was recently widowed and always concerned about the legion of possibilities with my own health. Then my poor overworked husband came in, wet from the rain and announced he would have to drive my car for a few days because the motor in his old car’s window wasn’t working and he had to leave the window covered in plastic all night and day. I still deal with a precious old dog that needs cleaning in the rear region every time she goes out to poop and then our other sweet dog threw up. I know there is more, but those are the highlights. It was just one of those, “Too much for this woman who would welcome a day of too little but I have not seen one of those in many years” day.

I sometimes call my husband at work and know I am disrupting him but when life gets so overwhelming to my mind and my body that I cannot control the tears, I need company. I usually suffer alone but when it reaches the sobbing stage, I have to call in support. Often, a simple word of understanding and support can make the difference for me. I’ve tried talking to the dogs about my problems, but they have so many problems of their own, I hate to overburden them.

I’m quite certain there are days when a huge neon sign is flashing on our roof “VICTIM HERE, VICTIM HERE.” I know in your life as in mine, many of these days seem to dump on us when we at our weakest. Sometimes we’re weakened from a bout of the flu, an infection or just an insurmountable mountain of pain. Now we just have to figure out how to unplug the bleeping sign. Like a child at an Easter egg hunt, we have to find the prize and the way out of this maze of frustration. To stay trapped is simply unthinkable and I may lie down and weep awhile but I always rise again. There’s no magic involved; I just don’t like it down at the bottom of the pile.

Try to Be Prepared. First of all, if you know a certain food or medication is going to hurt you, methodically figure it out and avoid it. I know it sounds so simple but life isn’t simple for many of us. Some medications cause more harm than good. We are often affected by sprays on our food, restaurant take- out food, gluten or lactose. Many of us who also suffer bowel or stomach problems with our rheumatoid problems, need to be prepared and have the remedies, medications or herbs and teas we find help us. I found long ago to be a good Girl Scout and be prepared. I have a drawer full of back-up supplies of these things. Creams, suppositories, herbs, supplies of all kinds usually will be used and when you’re having a problem, it’s not the time to skip out to the store. I even learned the hard way to keep undies in the bathroom and my purse along with other clean-up supplies for those times one is trapped in the bathroom with company in the house or in the car heading to or from a destination. I haven’t reached the point of bravery when I want to be caught without sufficient clothing or any other embarrassing circumstance. Nothing ruins a friendly get together quite like walking through the house half-clothed saying, “Oh don’t mind me, just looking for a new pair of undies. Been there, or almost there, didn’t like it.

Those Details are Your Life. They, whoever they are, say God is in the details. That is also true of your life and mine. The little details are deceptively small if they can turn your life one way or another. If we eat the wrong food and end up with an inflamed gut, it only took one swallow. One slip of carelessness on the stairs or getting out of the shower; down we go and those weakened parts of your anatomy and mine will react violently for far more than a moment. A careless word to a loved one can last forever as it echoes throughout the relationship. One small muscle, neglected too long can pull a joint in a different direction, throwing off your entire stance. The wrong pair of shoes can ruin your gait, as in the way you walk, affecting all of your joints and spine. Too much time in the sun, even in winter, can affect many of us and cause a flare of disease.

Your life and mine are in the details of our daily lives. We have to be informed to make wise decisions. Appreciate those details as they pop up along the way. Please do it for yourself and do it for me and I will promise the same. Of course, we’ll trip along the way but we should each try to control the things we can and learn to leave the rest to the powers of life and fate. I guess I’m suggesting we learn to be controlling then learn to let it go. Can we do both?

Learn to Forgive Yourself. I still do things I know I should not do. I occasionally have such a craving I eat a food that will irritate me. I often stretch the limits when something needs to be cleaned, moved, etc. Don’t you? Life does jig along and we often have to do a jig with it. I can’t just sit in a corner and ponder life and I doubt if you can take much of that either.

Some of our poor decisions are because we forget the details, don’t buy the medications or supplies, don’t go to the doctor or sometimes, it’s just because we‘re human. Why is it often easier to forgive someone other than ourselves?

Well, that’s it from a nut’s shell, or is it in a nut shell? Either way, let’s keep jigging along together. I’m sorry you’re suffering but I do enjoy your company.

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Each week when I sit down or lie down with my laptop, well, on my lap, I wonder how I can make some of the same messages new and more interesting for all of you. After writing 650 blogs, there aren’t many subjects we have not touched upon. Since there are always new readers, some of what I have to say will be fresh to them but stale to those of you who have been with me a long time. Therefore, it is a challenge to say many of the truths and lessons I’ve learned over and over in a whole new package as I share them with you. I’ve never been accused of being boring, so let’s see if once again we can discuss some of the universal truths that come along with a life of chronic pain.

A couple of days ago I went to pick up my granddaughter from her school bus near her home. I love the color and joy of that experience as tiny children disembark in Disney jackets of bright colors, hats of all description pulled down over their ears, half-empty lunch pails clanking in colorful backpacks. Then we drove over to our house to meet her brother’s school bus which arrives about twenty minutes after hers. He gets off near our house on the days they visit me. Some days she wants to race home to my house and make a quickly eaten butter sandwich; her choice, not mine. When it’s sunny, as it occasionally is here in Oregon, we walk the block to meet my grandson. This week it was raining and we decided to drive over and wait for him. She wasn’t hungry and she wanted to chat. I love seven-year-olds. They just open their mouths and let their brains spill; at least this one does. Our conversations aren’t cataclysmic or perhaps important to anyone else but they are to us. She always starts by saying, “Nana, guess what happened?” She doesn’t really want me to guess because she’s bursting with some news of the day, but I guess anyway. I said, “Okay, don’t tell me. A fly flew into your mouth at recess?” She replies, “No, but there was one in my room the other day.” And we’re off. I love these full of life conversations with children. We use that time to chat, to play “I spy with my little eye. Then she shouts out, “I spy something yellow.” It’s her brother’s school bus. We get out of my SUV and she runs to meet her nine-year-old brother screaming, “Bubba!” She hugs him as he tries to escape her grasp. Feigning embarrassment, he puts up with her and thus another greeting is completed. This particular day, there was a man fishing in a large empty field which is directly across the street from our home. My grandson said, “Nana, why is that man fishing in that field?”

It was a bit peculiar to watch until I realized he was practicing his casting for fly fishing with the long casting line. I called out to him, “They haven’t stocked that field yet.” Great line, but he didn’t hear me or chose to ignore me but the children then understood. We came home to chips and cheese, popcorn and a rousing game of tic tac toe along with a good movie. We watched RIO this week. Love that film. It’s so colorful and full of life.

My grandchildren don’t care if I have to lie down. They only seek my company, my love and my attention. Don’t you wish the rest of the world was like that? Acceptance by well-meaning friends and strangers is difficult to find. I’ve learned if I’m too cheerful or use too much humor they don’t think I’m really hurting. If I’m in a miserable state and find it hard to find a smile, they tell me to cheer up. There is so much going on inside of me on most days, I really wish I literally had a window on my soul. If I had a window I could tell them, “Take a look!”

When I recall where I’ve been over the last twenty years I am often amazed to still be here. I also gaze in sheer wonderment at how much I’ve changed. It’s difficult to describe to others who have not traveled this journey. They don’t know what they have not seen. They haven’t trekked the trails you and I have therefore, they don’t know the view from here.

I love metaphors. I use them often and love the descriptive pictures they paint. I have thought in the past if I was a tree, I’d be one of those huge, old Spruce trees struck by wind or lightning, one half dead while the other half is sprouting new growth. If I was a hairdo, I’d be full of new highlights even while losing a bit of hair each day. If I was a sky I’d be full of passing clouds trailed by sunlight. If I was a dog I’d wag my tail while I limped. If I was a child I’d scream at the doctor’s office.

I suppose each of us is all of these things, are we not? We battle discouragement on a daily basis. We have to overcome fear and helplessness while we drag our pain with us, everywhere we go. My dear, funny husband has an old expression he uses on the occasion of seeing a jet flying overhead. It is, “Man, I wish I was in that plane and he was down here with a wart on his ass.” His words, not mine. Don’t blame the messenger.

It’s okay for us to want to be somewhere else, or to want to be someone else, but at the end of the day we need to reward ourselves by being the best with what we have been given. New talents are waiting to be explored. We need to reach, not withdraw. We need to accept what we must and fight against the rest. Some newly blinded folks develop radar. Let’s work on our radar today. Try something new. Buy some new food you’ve never tasted. Speak to a stranger at the store just to say “Have a good day.” I’m going to make dried sweet potato treats for my dogs today. The ones from China have me frightened as to their purity due to a recent recall. I have to go to the market then I’m rewarding myself with a lie down. I’ll talk to some of you via this blog, others by email. Life pulls me onward. Come play and find your own metaphors. Life can’t always be about our pain.

Sue now has a Facebook page — check it out and “like” her now!