http://www.uhn.ca/corporate/News/Pages/The_role_of_anxiety_in_TBI_rehab.aspx
Friday, April 13, 2018
Thursday, April 12, 2018
Acceptance is not surrender
As the intensive Chronic Pain Management Program came to a close, I realized that that place was my safe zone. I spent six hours a day, four days a week there for six weeks. I spent more hours speaking to the team over the telephone. The safe zone is a difference between having others people supporting you and doing it all by yourself. You can feed off the attention and encouragement of the team in the clinic much like you can from the enthusiasm of well-wishers line in the roots of a marathon. But once removed from either of those situations it gets lonely in a hurry and how much you get through the hard times depended on me. At the start of the program I had a solid support network- team Sam that was ready to help me whenever I allowed. They would jump at the chance to send a text, or a phone call to be there for me. But as the six weeks went on, and the time after this dragged on, Team Sam separated themselves, as things got harder and more adaptations came into place. I had to accept fate during these
Excepting and not surrendering is a three-step process.
First what acceptance isn’t. It isn’t giving up. It isn’t falling prey to the traps of self victimization. And it isn’t living a life of self self deprovation and misery consumed with self-pity. On the contrary acceptance calls for a life of discipline through action. Before I could do anything I had to accept my new reality. This took the first step of two steps. The first is coming to grips with no longer being able to do the things that brought me so much joy. Working in child welfare, camping, skiing, kayaking, writing and reading were gone. These things also defined me to others and to myself. I no longer knew who I was and I did not have an identity anymore. The hardest admission of all was realizing that these losses were final.
This was a hard pill to swallow as I have moved into the second step of acceptance. I still had not completed the first.
The second step with excepting those reels was my abilities that I still had however meager. I still don’t know who I was but perhaps in the rubble of my former self I might find the pieces that could point me in the right direction. To do that I had to be open to any and all opportunities. I had accept what I had lost before I could except what I had left. Both were difficult but once done it freed my mind and body to explore and create new pathways to sell itself.
The third step was not threading and was the easiest and most liberating step of all. I was free to pick up and choose activities that I thought would help me improve. What provided sigma to the community was where I appeared to be at. Whether it was attending Alpha Court, volunteering in my community, attending the Chronic Pain program or the concussion group at Neuro day or the Norwest activities. If it was going to help me, than I would try it. Before the injury, my activities changed with seasons. Although I swam through all these seasons there were some weather dependant activities I enjoyed. I enjoyed the extremes that weather had to offer. I can no longer hurry. If I'm running late I can't drop it into another gear to make up for lost time. That ability is gone. I have only one speed and it wasn’t fast. There were no longer margins of error. I had to increase my prep time and everything. Another big loss for spontaneity. The billet to go anywhere and do anything whenever I wanted. It was a painful, loss. Acceptance was so difficult and the framework I had chosen with which to move ahead before and after paradigm.
I find myself making comparisons between before the onset of the injury when I was healthy and strong and could do anything whenever and wherever I wanted and after the injury had sruck when I could do so very little. It was a natural bit dangerous comparison. It also triggered feelings of embarrassment, shame and guilt. Embarrassment or shame because I hadn't always been more than healthy. However, I was able to control my pain in a way that gave me successful quality of life. My lifestyle reflected on that. I eat well, never smoked or did recreational drugs and exercised. Most of the time it was a good life. The losses I felt guilty before. These were because I wondered if I had done something in my past for which God with settling the score. I know I had been a workaholic and a lot of the lack of healing from the injury steamed from this. At the core I was an optimist but I wasn’t able to generate any positive feelings about my struggle because I would see myself through the lenses of my losses. It was natural to feel disheartened and it fit. How could I feel otherwise. The sentiment was reinforced because I’m also a realist and just couldn’t see any improvement.
I was sabotaging myself, and the harder I tried to see anything upbeat in my situation, the worse I got. Then I'd start to feel guilty, because I didn't think I was trying hard enough to see the good. I didn't realize at the time, but I was reinforcing my own negative self-image and demoralizing the people who had to witness it. It wasn't intentional not on a conscious level, but it was there. I was making life more difficult for myself and for those closest to me. I no longer knew who I was or what I was. I had lost myself, my being. Everything that had once defined me was gone, and I had to redefine myself as an injury survivor; and I didn't know who or what that was. I didn't know if I had survived it yet, or if there was more to come.
When I was at my worst, I couldn't function. This was when I began reading positive materials to replace the self-sabotaging pattern of applying my original "before and after" paradigm. All of this was making my life better, not only for me but also for those around me. My attitude was changing. There was not physical improvement but instead a mental one. My progress instilled confidence, hope and a return of mental toughness and inspired hope. It was definitally hard to let go. I couldn't give up anything until I had exhausted myself pursuing all possible options that could lead to even the slightest improvement. My tank had to be empty. It was only then that I could accept my new reality. It was ironic that being a realist prevented me from seeing anything positive in my earlier paradigm and yet I couldn't have accepted my fate in my new paradigm without being one. It was now confirming my advances, which in turn motivated the optimist in me to work harder. The main outcome of accepting my fate as a disease survivor was the evaporation of the embarrassment, shame and guilt that I had carried. Their weight had been paralysing at times. Being human, I have been subject to mild emotional relapses, but because of my basic acceptance, I recognize them for what they are and stop them before they become threats. I remain vigilant and accept the need for self control to keep moving forward. I had come far, but I had help. Once I had accepted that I was unable to go to work, I progressed. I adopted a new approach to living- if I can't do everything I wanted, then I better do everything I can. I had my faith, as a devoted Christian. my relationship with God became strong with anger mixed in with it.
With acceptance came the openness to what I could be - an open mind curious to question, explore, and discover. I was free to explore activities and interested to see what I could do and to test the limits. More than anything acceptance freed me to challenge my fate, not surrender to it. Acceptance gave me the freedom to see that my disease, no matter what its name, was not my captor. I could discover something about myself or find enjoyment in places yet unknown. My future was up to me, and I had to make a decision to lead or to follow. it would have been easy to remain the victim because it was comfortable however I choose the unknown. We can be our best friend or our worst enemy. The choice is ours.
Excepting and not surrendering is a three-step process.
First what acceptance isn’t. It isn’t giving up. It isn’t falling prey to the traps of self victimization. And it isn’t living a life of self self deprovation and misery consumed with self-pity. On the contrary acceptance calls for a life of discipline through action. Before I could do anything I had to accept my new reality. This took the first step of two steps. The first is coming to grips with no longer being able to do the things that brought me so much joy. Working in child welfare, camping, skiing, kayaking, writing and reading were gone. These things also defined me to others and to myself. I no longer knew who I was and I did not have an identity anymore. The hardest admission of all was realizing that these losses were final.
This was a hard pill to swallow as I have moved into the second step of acceptance. I still had not completed the first.
The second step with excepting those reels was my abilities that I still had however meager. I still don’t know who I was but perhaps in the rubble of my former self I might find the pieces that could point me in the right direction. To do that I had to be open to any and all opportunities. I had accept what I had lost before I could except what I had left. Both were difficult but once done it freed my mind and body to explore and create new pathways to sell itself.
The third step was not threading and was the easiest and most liberating step of all. I was free to pick up and choose activities that I thought would help me improve. What provided sigma to the community was where I appeared to be at. Whether it was attending Alpha Court, volunteering in my community, attending the Chronic Pain program or the concussion group at Neuro day or the Norwest activities. If it was going to help me, than I would try it. Before the injury, my activities changed with seasons. Although I swam through all these seasons there were some weather dependant activities I enjoyed. I enjoyed the extremes that weather had to offer. I can no longer hurry. If I'm running late I can't drop it into another gear to make up for lost time. That ability is gone. I have only one speed and it wasn’t fast. There were no longer margins of error. I had to increase my prep time and everything. Another big loss for spontaneity. The billet to go anywhere and do anything whenever I wanted. It was a painful, loss. Acceptance was so difficult and the framework I had chosen with which to move ahead before and after paradigm.
I find myself making comparisons between before the onset of the injury when I was healthy and strong and could do anything whenever and wherever I wanted and after the injury had sruck when I could do so very little. It was a natural bit dangerous comparison. It also triggered feelings of embarrassment, shame and guilt. Embarrassment or shame because I hadn't always been more than healthy. However, I was able to control my pain in a way that gave me successful quality of life. My lifestyle reflected on that. I eat well, never smoked or did recreational drugs and exercised. Most of the time it was a good life. The losses I felt guilty before. These were because I wondered if I had done something in my past for which God with settling the score. I know I had been a workaholic and a lot of the lack of healing from the injury steamed from this. At the core I was an optimist but I wasn’t able to generate any positive feelings about my struggle because I would see myself through the lenses of my losses. It was natural to feel disheartened and it fit. How could I feel otherwise. The sentiment was reinforced because I’m also a realist and just couldn’t see any improvement.
I was sabotaging myself, and the harder I tried to see anything upbeat in my situation, the worse I got. Then I'd start to feel guilty, because I didn't think I was trying hard enough to see the good. I didn't realize at the time, but I was reinforcing my own negative self-image and demoralizing the people who had to witness it. It wasn't intentional not on a conscious level, but it was there. I was making life more difficult for myself and for those closest to me. I no longer knew who I was or what I was. I had lost myself, my being. Everything that had once defined me was gone, and I had to redefine myself as an injury survivor; and I didn't know who or what that was. I didn't know if I had survived it yet, or if there was more to come.
When I was at my worst, I couldn't function. This was when I began reading positive materials to replace the self-sabotaging pattern of applying my original "before and after" paradigm. All of this was making my life better, not only for me but also for those around me. My attitude was changing. There was not physical improvement but instead a mental one. My progress instilled confidence, hope and a return of mental toughness and inspired hope. It was definitally hard to let go. I couldn't give up anything until I had exhausted myself pursuing all possible options that could lead to even the slightest improvement. My tank had to be empty. It was only then that I could accept my new reality. It was ironic that being a realist prevented me from seeing anything positive in my earlier paradigm and yet I couldn't have accepted my fate in my new paradigm without being one. It was now confirming my advances, which in turn motivated the optimist in me to work harder. The main outcome of accepting my fate as a disease survivor was the evaporation of the embarrassment, shame and guilt that I had carried. Their weight had been paralysing at times. Being human, I have been subject to mild emotional relapses, but because of my basic acceptance, I recognize them for what they are and stop them before they become threats. I remain vigilant and accept the need for self control to keep moving forward. I had come far, but I had help. Once I had accepted that I was unable to go to work, I progressed. I adopted a new approach to living- if I can't do everything I wanted, then I better do everything I can. I had my faith, as a devoted Christian. my relationship with God became strong with anger mixed in with it.
With acceptance came the openness to what I could be - an open mind curious to question, explore, and discover. I was free to explore activities and interested to see what I could do and to test the limits. More than anything acceptance freed me to challenge my fate, not surrender to it. Acceptance gave me the freedom to see that my disease, no matter what its name, was not my captor. I could discover something about myself or find enjoyment in places yet unknown. My future was up to me, and I had to make a decision to lead or to follow. it would have been easy to remain the victim because it was comfortable however I choose the unknown. We can be our best friend or our worst enemy. The choice is ours.
Discrimination
I hate it when my disabilities get in the way of my life and I get discriminated against. This happens on a daily basis throughout the city. I understand what segregation and not being part of the group is like. Over the past Seven months I have been introduced to and used before wheeled walker also known as a role of her, AFO also known as a foot brace, many gadgets and gizmos to help with daily living also known as ADL equipment, and finally the indwelling Foley catheter. These equipment add up to a lot and a cumbersome And bulky. My three most frequent stores are shoppers drug Mart, shoppers home healthcare, and Motion Specialty’s. I feel safest At the Chronic Pain program in Victoria Ville Mall, Saint Joe’s hospital, Alpha Court and Nor West Health clinic. Ever else is touch and go. The Victoria Ville Mall itself and any other stores are full of people who just don’t understand I don’t get it. People he will deliberately walk in your face, speed by you and then state I’m late because of the person behind me, slam doors in your face, stare at you, or ask inappropriate questions. I am 36 and I do have all of this equipment. However the equipment that I have on a daily basis helped me in one way or another. It’ll laminate Falls allows me to be independent and decreases my pain is sensitivity levels on an ongoing basis. I have had medical professionals asked me why I have the equipment and what’s my deal. I’ve had random strangers come up to me and state in a very sloppy slimy voice that’s more like syrup that they’re so sad that this is happened to me, i’ve also had family members who deliberately and out rightly will not speak to me and ignore my existence because of my chronic health problems and disabilities. It’s not like I like having these things and want these things and they have been prescribed which is why I use them. I have learned to trust my inner strength to continue to move on on a daily basis. I continue to work with my therapist and my circle of support to gain strength and the Kerge to MoveOn. This week I was told that my cognitive ability is like a 12-year-old. As well my reading and writing skills are less than 1% of the population when compared to other people of my age and education level. This hurts it’s like a slap in the face sometimes I just don’t want to be van because of it it’s overwhelming and my insides turn and stick together like glue. This is when I need my support network more than ever. I’ve become hyper vigilant and wonder who can actually see the me and who could see the person who is surviving. There’s so much to unravel when looking at my brain and so much to try to illuminate when accessing it. The hearing impairment the speech impairment the anxiety the depression the pain this And the that.I am complex I am a challenge however I am strangely and ultimately unique. My tenaciousness and inner strength shine through and that makes me the person who I am
U turn plot twist
I went to the urologist on Friday. He stared at me with tears in his eyes. He stated that I was his very very patient and that he enjoys working with me. My latest test cane back not in my favour. Since I couldn’t feel my bladder getting full until it was very full and since I’m bladder training myself we have to be productive. I’m going to start loosing even more sensation as the days go on. Some people call it autonomic neuropathy. I would need a permanent foley indwelling cathator put on me. Ccac will be contacted and a nurse will come to put it in. I sat there in shock. Isn’t there any other options? Isn’t there more time? How about if we wait until after the surgery. Maybe the hysterectomy will help! Why would it help he challenged me? I don’t know! He shook my hand and stared that he was here if I needed him. I went out into the hallway, seeing a line up of chairs. The waiting room looked different. Strangely odd, as the silence of patients grew, waiting to be seen. Going out, talking to the secretary and then having the referral faxed ASAP to ccac. It’s a changed world and I’m ready to conquer it with my knot the size of a baseball bat!
Saturday, April 7, 2018
Failure
When your sick and your body doesn't respond like it used to, you have choices. You can pick up and go, where you left off, hide and pretend it's not happening or just live life in the moment. Leaving the doctors office, after news that your body is failing you all over again is hard. Really hard. You walk out of the room and there are all these other people staring at you in the waiting room. They are anxiously waiting. The old people, the young people, the really little people and the students. Students in waiting rooms stick out like a sore thumb. They are there with their laptops and cell phones, trying to catch up on homework while they wait.
As you approach that administration desk, they look at you with these puppy dog eyes. Wondering what to do, they maneuver like a robot, getting the proper form, explaining the procedure quietly and then having you sign the referral. They then state that they will fax it off. You walk out into the building, press the elevator button and walk out into the parking lot fumbling around for the credit card and parking chip. People are hustling and bustling around trying to get to where they need to go, running late for appointments and fighting for parking spots. What do you do next? Cry and digest about how much you hate your body, fight for the line up of vehicles or just sit there? You find your car and your friend who drives you - then your just sit there. Making small talk as she drives you and your car home, fighting for a sense of independence you open the car door, dragging the walker out and into the house, remembering that the door is still open, you look behind and the friend shuts the door, gets you up into the home and tucks you into bed, before you start letting the tears flow. It's not fair, not fucking fair. What on earth did you do to deserve this? Why, when you tell the truth about how things are going for you, life goes into a spiral downhill puddle of crap. Surgery is scheduled, referrals are set, case conferences are had, and medical professionals talk in rounds, 'for your best care'. Planning before a plan is discussed. I know it is in the best interest but it's hard. Really hard. I hate being the client. I really do. I want to know. Be in the know to discuss the hard stuff with them. Fixating on possibilities that nobody else agrees with is a reason. My brain, it's not there. This body that "looks great" is the only thing that people sees. It's when you speak about your troubles that life comes flowing out and agencies fight over the best thing for your care.
THE ONLY THING THAT HAS LIFE GOING FOR ME IS THAT I AM AN AWESOME PERSON WHO MEDICAL PROFESSIONS ENJOY WORKING WITH ME.
HUMOUR. IT'S ALL ABOUT THE HUMOUR.
As you approach that administration desk, they look at you with these puppy dog eyes. Wondering what to do, they maneuver like a robot, getting the proper form, explaining the procedure quietly and then having you sign the referral. They then state that they will fax it off. You walk out into the building, press the elevator button and walk out into the parking lot fumbling around for the credit card and parking chip. People are hustling and bustling around trying to get to where they need to go, running late for appointments and fighting for parking spots. What do you do next? Cry and digest about how much you hate your body, fight for the line up of vehicles or just sit there? You find your car and your friend who drives you - then your just sit there. Making small talk as she drives you and your car home, fighting for a sense of independence you open the car door, dragging the walker out and into the house, remembering that the door is still open, you look behind and the friend shuts the door, gets you up into the home and tucks you into bed, before you start letting the tears flow. It's not fair, not fucking fair. What on earth did you do to deserve this? Why, when you tell the truth about how things are going for you, life goes into a spiral downhill puddle of crap. Surgery is scheduled, referrals are set, case conferences are had, and medical professionals talk in rounds, 'for your best care'. Planning before a plan is discussed. I know it is in the best interest but it's hard. Really hard. I hate being the client. I really do. I want to know. Be in the know to discuss the hard stuff with them. Fixating on possibilities that nobody else agrees with is a reason. My brain, it's not there. This body that "looks great" is the only thing that people sees. It's when you speak about your troubles that life comes flowing out and agencies fight over the best thing for your care.
THE ONLY THING THAT HAS LIFE GOING FOR ME IS THAT I AM AN AWESOME PERSON WHO MEDICAL PROFESSIONS ENJOY WORKING WITH ME.
HUMOUR. IT'S ALL ABOUT THE HUMOUR.
Wednesday, April 4, 2018
Free Be
I am happy and content where my life it at, at the currently moment. I came to the realization a few weeks ago, that I am not like everyone else. I am not like that old person that I was. My self has changed. This has been a hard lesson to learn, however, through time the process came up and this is what is showed. It's not fair but that is the way it is. I have always competed and strived for something else. I was always in the "I'm thankful for this but I'm going to challenge myself to reach further into the pot". However, this is when I became stressed and my tolerance became minimal. I stretched myself too far and too thin. My body collapsed and became nothing but a heap of health issues. I am okay with being off work. I find joy in the moment in this. I am okay with attending alpha court day programming. My brain is broken and as such, my mental capacity and cognition are impaired. Leaving me with a developmental delay. Making friends with people 'like' me will be helpful to gaining a full recovery. I am not going into it thinking that I am 'better' than everyone else. Instead I'm going into it to relax my brain, have fun and be safe in a supportive environment. I love chair yoga. I think I love it so much because it is relaxing but slow. The world talks, runs and moves too fast for me. These programs take things slowly and is geared for me. I'm signed up for the baking and healthy eating programs. I'm also planning on doing their scrapbooking class and their meditation programs as well. My OT was happy that I finally came to this conclusion.
I also received a PAL card today... Hello free stuff in Thunder Bay with a support worker!
I also received a PAL card today... Hello free stuff in Thunder Bay with a support worker!
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