So it goes...

It's been far longer than I intended since my last entry, although I honestly had a post ready to go about ten days ago, but i somehow lost the draft and was so disgusted that I put off starting another one until now. A more current version of "the dog ate my homework" excuse I'll admit, but it's true. Anyway, since it's been over two months since my last post, there's been quite a bit to report on.

I've continued at work with my pre-injury schedule, and that's been going remarkably well considering that it's been far busier than usual since mid-December. Long work days leave me a bit more worn out than I used to get, and the short, dark days of winter make it a bit harder to motivate myself to do much more after work than head home and lie down for an hour before dinner. The time change two weeks ago was especially unwelcome given the 7:00 start time at work, and thus the need to arise at 5:15. But the hours of sunlight are lengthening, the flora and fauna are waking up, and the workdays are starting to moderate, so it's getting harder to complain.

I've been using my weeks off to engage in PT and OT at the Wilson Workforce Rehab Center, just down the road in Fishersville. This was once one of the most well-know rehabilitation centers in the country, but its OT and PT programs have winnowed over the years as the focus has shifted more toward vocational rehab. Fortunately for me, they still have several very experienced and dedicated professionals working there, and I've been the recipient of superb care. We've been working on many of the same things I did at Shepherd, but now it's fine tuning  things like transfers, wheelchair skills, and the ADLs (activities of daily living). They've helped me improve all of those skills and made me more efficient, but have also shown me other equipment options, bathroom stuff (you don't want to know), and arranged for me to try out some of this stuff at home. They even got me into a swimming pool last week for the first time since my accident, which was incredible. I've never been a big fan of swimming in pools or swimming in general (except as an alternative to drowning), but there was something about being able to float and then swim on my back that was surprisingly relaxing and quite pleasant. I'll be making that a regular part of my regimen from now on, and I have my dedicated therapists to thanks for that, and much more.

We've been getting out more and navigating the wheelchair-access opportunities and barriers. My criteria for judging bars and restaurants now has less to do with the quality of the food than whether my knees will fit under the table. I've  become an expert at wheeling around and between tables without knocking anyone's food off their table, and have found that most people are very happy to help out. It's been great catching up with friends and to feel "normal" for a few hours during which I can occasionally forget about the chair. 

But it's been no bed of roses, no pleasure cruise. I consider it a challenge before the whole human race, and I never lose. (Okay, yes, those are Freddy Mercury's words).  Neuropathic pain in my pelvis is more or less constant, as is tingling and numbness of several fingers, my shoulders are wearing out, and I've been visited upon by multiple UTIs which I just can't seem to get rid of. This is where one usually writes, "But.....", but I won't. It really does suck at times, and there are moments when I just wish I hadn't gone on that bike ride last July. I think about and feel the loss of the things I can no longer do, and then get angry at myself for not having done more before my accident, and resentful of others who can do those things but don't even appreciate it.  That's wallowing, and it has to be done, but I know that I can't dwell there for too long or it'll make me bitter. Most of this suffering is self-inflicted, what the Buddha referred to as the "second arrow". The first arrow is our circumstances, the pain, loss, illness, etc, most of which is unavoidable as we move through life. The second arrow is self-inflicted, and it's the way we catastrophize whatever happens to us. By resisting or pushing away from our lot we actually make it worse. I taught this for several years in MBSR (mindfulness-based stress reduction), but have truly learned the hard way the truth of that teaching. Trying to accept without being resigned is the crux of the struggle, and it's an ongoing one for me, trust me. 

Which brings me back to work. I mentioned in my last post how gratifying it had been to see old patients, and how concerned they were for my wellbeing. This has continued, but I now spend more of my time with new patients who never knew me before. What I've noticed is how I now have a much better understanding of what they're going through even though I've never had cancer. The empathy I now have makes it so much easier to comprehend what they're experiencing, and to take better care of them, which I think has made me a better physician. But it's been a two-way street: I feel like they know what I'm going through as well, and the ways they express it, by opening the door for me, the knowing, conspiratorial smile, or the discussions comparing wheelchairs, make me feel more understood and seen. Their empathy is something I did not expect, but it's pretty darn amazing and wonderful. 

What else? My hand cycle has been shipped, and I'm hoping to be on it before long. Renovations at our NY place are almost complete, and I can't wait to get up there and gaze across the lake. Max, our neurotic but lovable lab, took a quick turn for the worse last month and had to be put down. It was incredibly sad to lose him, but, fortunately, Fritz, our perpetually adolescent diabetic lab, is still with us and keeps us entertained. Unfortunately, all of our cats appear to be quite healthy, and will continue to allow us to serve them for the foreseeable future.

That's about all I can remember at this moment, although I know I've missed some important stuff. Stay tuned for the addendum.