The other night I made the rare trip out. Mrs. Lucky's co-worker (I'll call her Jeanette) was exhibiting some artwork at a nearby club and there was a kickoff party for the show. I'd met Jeanette at Mrs. Lucky's office Christmas party, and she's a lot of fun. She doesn't treat me like the husband of a co-worker; she interacts with me and laughs at my jokes. She gives me a big bear hug at the top of the evening and makes little Mrs. Lucky-approved innuendo that stokes my ego. Jeanette's husband was also there. I'll call him Larry. He's almost Jeanette's polar opposite: a little on the shy side, like me, but he feels compelled to start conversations. Because of my own social anxiety, small talk like this makes me uncomfortable, and I struggle to keep going so I don't insult the guy.
At one point in the evening, I was seated next to Larry at the bar and we were making our usual awkward small talk. He ordered whatever he was ordering, and I got my usual ginger ale, at which he raised an eyebrow. I explained that alcohol's a no-no with all the pain meds I'm on. Suddenly, Larry and I were best friends. He, too, has had spinal problems, surgeries and pain issues. He's not on the magnitude of medication I am (otherwise he'd be teetotalling as well), but we had enough shared experiences to keep our conversation going for several minutes.
I've had this experience with other people, and also at parties. But Larry's roughly my age and Mrs. Lucky really likes Jeanette. I think this could be the beginning of the first new friendship for me in a decade.
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
Friday, June 21, 2013
What's my pain worth, exactly?
During a discussion of household jobs at one of my chronic pain management workshops, someone mentioned groceries, which is a hot-button issue with me. I used to do 90% of the shopping because I loved it and also because I cooked a lot, so it was easier if I picked everything out.
Then came the seizure. The pain limits standing, walking and lifting, of course, but as I've mentioned before, the hardware in my shoulders prevents raising my outstretched arms above chin level. So except for a brief stop to pick up one or two things, grocery shopping became one less (kind-of) fun thing I could do, and one more chore to add to Mrs. Lucky's side of the scorecard.
Then I remembered that our favorite chain delivered. Perfect! Now I shop in front of the computer, even getting Mrs. Lucky's input, which she didn't always get when I shopped in person. It's almost as much fun, but there are some downsides. First, the company (which I should allow to remain nameless, but is Von's) doesn't offer everything online. Love that specific soup flavor or variety of pretzels? You may have to settle. They're also frequently out of items. You have the option when ordering to substitute either a different brand or size, but we've had problems with that, so I just check "no substitutions." Finally, there's a delivery charge catch-22: It ranges from $3.95 to $9.95 depending on a bunch of factors, but you can eliminate it if you spend $150 and buy five items from a certain list. When it's all said and done, however, it's been a good solution for us.
When I explained all this to my group, they saw nothing but downside. I understand that limited incomes make delivery charges and minimum orders sound unappealing. I also know that if you're not able to drive yourself to the store, you're paying cabs, public transportation or friends or family for transportation. I understand that not getting everything you want can be disappointing. I also know that eating a different brand of corn flakes is fine with me if it means I didn't have to ask for help to get it down from the shelf.
Like other chronic health conditions, chronic pain means making adjustments. Will every adjustment be perfect? Of course not. But that comes with the territory. How much is my comfort worth? At the very least, it's worth putting up with a different brand of corn flakes and a couple of bucks for delivery to get food in the house.
Then came the seizure. The pain limits standing, walking and lifting, of course, but as I've mentioned before, the hardware in my shoulders prevents raising my outstretched arms above chin level. So except for a brief stop to pick up one or two things, grocery shopping became one less (kind-of) fun thing I could do, and one more chore to add to Mrs. Lucky's side of the scorecard.
Then I remembered that our favorite chain delivered. Perfect! Now I shop in front of the computer, even getting Mrs. Lucky's input, which she didn't always get when I shopped in person. It's almost as much fun, but there are some downsides. First, the company (which I should allow to remain nameless, but is Von's) doesn't offer everything online. Love that specific soup flavor or variety of pretzels? You may have to settle. They're also frequently out of items. You have the option when ordering to substitute either a different brand or size, but we've had problems with that, so I just check "no substitutions." Finally, there's a delivery charge catch-22: It ranges from $3.95 to $9.95 depending on a bunch of factors, but you can eliminate it if you spend $150 and buy five items from a certain list. When it's all said and done, however, it's been a good solution for us.
When I explained all this to my group, they saw nothing but downside. I understand that limited incomes make delivery charges and minimum orders sound unappealing. I also know that if you're not able to drive yourself to the store, you're paying cabs, public transportation or friends or family for transportation. I understand that not getting everything you want can be disappointing. I also know that eating a different brand of corn flakes is fine with me if it means I didn't have to ask for help to get it down from the shelf.
Like other chronic health conditions, chronic pain means making adjustments. Will every adjustment be perfect? Of course not. But that comes with the territory. How much is my comfort worth? At the very least, it's worth putting up with a different brand of corn flakes and a couple of bucks for delivery to get food in the house.
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
The king is dead...long live the broccoli
(Okay, disclaimer: I love broccoli and all vegetables.)
Now that that's out of the way, my reign as the World's Worst Diabetic is at an end. My numbers are off the charts, and the good doctor has said my diabetes has "slipped out of control." He's doubled my metformin (ugh), but fortunately said nothing about my weight or diet. That, it's understood, is for me to tackle on my own.
I admit that I've sought out food for comfort at every turn in my adult life. There are plenty of psychological reasons for it (believe me, I'm the first to defend the overweight or obese - there's more to it than just "eat less."), but now it's all over. I can no longer ignore the sick feeling after eating the wrong stuff, or the fatigue after virtually every meal. The good news is that I'm down four pounds since January.
Sigh. Anyway, watch this space for further updates.
Now that that's out of the way, my reign as the World's Worst Diabetic is at an end. My numbers are off the charts, and the good doctor has said my diabetes has "slipped out of control." He's doubled my metformin (ugh), but fortunately said nothing about my weight or diet. That, it's understood, is for me to tackle on my own.
I admit that I've sought out food for comfort at every turn in my adult life. There are plenty of psychological reasons for it (believe me, I'm the first to defend the overweight or obese - there's more to it than just "eat less."), but now it's all over. I can no longer ignore the sick feeling after eating the wrong stuff, or the fatigue after virtually every meal. The good news is that I'm down four pounds since January.
Sigh. Anyway, watch this space for further updates.
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