The ER intake nurse administered the prerequisite suicide assessment, “Have you had thoughts of suicide in the past year?” eliciting my response of “No, but I would like to exchange this body, please.”
It was just a few months ago that I marveled at the ease with which I moved through the house. I was addressing some minor limitations such as difficulty mounting and dismounting a bicycle, but most daily movements were effortless. Now even sleeping was testing. How did I get to my present state?!
Oh yes: I was trying to get in shape and tore a meniscus during a lunge. Assuming that the pain was sign of the earlier diagnosed arthritis, I plowed ahead until it crippled me completely. Steroid injections have helped but only partial knee replacement will resolve the problem.
I was learning to manage the pain enough so that I could move around with mild discomfort. Then a new pain, sharp, in the arch of my foot. Self-diagnosis revealed plantar fasciitis, uncomfortable enough to keep me awake the night last week when I felt my water break.
Wait! I’m not and cannot be pregnant. But it wasn’t water, it was blood, soaking my pajama pants and gushing into the toilet bowl as my husband desperately tried to clean the floor and bed. Hence the aforementioned question from the ER nurse.
I had promised a blog documenting my effort to maintain fitness expecting to celebrate victories, but I find myself getting behind. Thankfully the arthritis in the thumb seems to be inactive at the moment. The plantar fasciitis is being controlled with pain medication and a night-time boot and will, hopefully, resolve. The knee is also tolerable with pain meds and careful positioning and will be corrected with a partial replacement, and the bloody discharge will be further evaluated with a D & C with treatment options, if needed, to be determined. But I fear I will never move with the ease that I enjoyed a few months ago, always waiting for the other plantar boot to drop, so to speak.
We left the Midwest to escape the overcast skies of Chicago. Those cold, dark, low-hanging, wet clouds felt as if they were pressuring the top of my head. My response was to go to bed and not wake up until the sun shone. Today’s political climate, the hysteria of the corona virus, and this deteriorating body suffocate me like lakeside Illinois clouds. Wake me when it is over.