The Night Owl

The Night Owl
Dorcas Annette Walker

The rest of the world is sleeping as I slowly ease my body down in the recliner to try and lessen my level of pain. All is silent except for the sound of my husband snoring in the next room. Even Lucy Lou, my faithful companion, is curled up at my feet sleeping leaving me totally alone in the dim darkness. I turn on the lamp beside me and try to read to divert my mind, hoping that my pain lowers enough so I can lie back down in bed and relax enough to fall asleep. Time seems to drag. The page blurs in front of me. I blink my eyes and try to focus while ignoring the nagging pain radiating throughout my body. My head falls over jerking me awake from a semi-doze. My entire body is begging for relief that sleep will give if only I can get to that state.

I have a choice. Take a pain narcotic and get enough relief to fall asleep, but leave me the next day feeling dopey and dizzy with my balance affected or try and trick my body into relaxing enough to fall asleep and then feel like myself the next day. If only my crazy bones would cooperate and let the pain lessen just a slight bit I could control my life without another pill. My fogged mind argues back and forth. To pop a pill or not to pop a pill- that is the question of my life.

Life from a Prescription Bottle

Life from a Prescription Bottle
Dorcas Annette Walker

I never used to be one to take pills for an ache or pain. In fact growing up pills scared me as I often would choke trying to get one down. I can remember my mother arguing with me to try and get me to take something for relief for a headache- I would rather suffer it out than to face swallowing a pill. As a teenager I had low iron levels so I got used to taking the small iron pills. When I was expecting the large prenatal pills were a nightmare until I discovered that breaking them in two and putting them in a spoonful of applesauce made the pills easier to swallow. After the birth of my daughter I hemorrhaged badly and was underweight so finally consigned myself to taking a daily multivitamin with the faithful iron pill to keep me going. When I got my first tick bite that triggered Lyme I swallowed the antibiotic pills- anything to get back to normal.

Then pain started flaring up that ibuprofen no longer controlled. My doctor had me take Advil. Soon that wasn’t keeping my pain under control, so he added Celebrex and then Neurontin. My dosage kept getting increased until I was bedfast. Once I realized that Lyme’s had come out of remission, I was put on a daily regiment of antibiotic pills that lasted nine months. The only way I could tolerate taking the antibiotic pills was to take them at night as they make you wretchedly sick, despite popping Phenergan. Pain pills tend to destroy your stomach lining so my meals are eaten with a handful of pills. Shopping trips on good days or visiting with my daughter and grandkids has to revolve around remembering to take my pills so that the level controlling my pain will not bottom out. From past experience (of landing back in bed due to intense pain) whenever I go out I grab my pills in case we run late. I live with chronic pain. Unfortunately the narcotic to keep severe pain under control makes you feel sleepy and drugged. Some days I dither back and forth whether to choose a pain pill or try and ignore the pain so I will have a clear mind.

Pills have a way of multiplying and overtaking your life- you daren’t think about all the side affects or you’d go crazy. Popping pills is a love hate relationship. I hate the fact that my life is tied to yucky orange-tinted bottles decorated with strips of paper for dosage, directions, number of refills, narrow labels for warnings all topped by a white cap. I feel vulnerable realizing that my life is controlled by pills. Yet I gladly swallow them down every day in order to be able to stay on my feet and partially enjoy a normal life. And when I start to feel independent all it takes is a shifting of my pain to a high level to find myself heading back to the mini pharmacy in my kitchen cabinet and reaching for a bottle of pills. Speaking of which, I have to bring this to a close. It is time for me to go and pop some more pills.

The Neglected Wardrobe

The Neglected Wardrobe
Dorcas Annette Walker

I hold onto the sides of my closet to keep my balance and stare at the rows of clothes hanging inside my closet. Bright colors draw my attention as my eyes roam up and down the coordinated colors ranging from light to dark. I reach out and touch a silky fabric yearning to feel it against my skin. How long has it been since I wore a dress? I touch another sleeve and then another as the rainbow of greens, purples, then pinks all call out, pick me! I feel dizzy and overwhelmed with all the choices to choose from. What should I wear? Feeling refreshed after taking a shower I want to get dressed instead of wearing pajamas. I reach out for a blouse and skirt then place it back on the rod, then another. I feel exhausted at the thought of having to iron an outfit. I close my eyes to concentrate. What would be quick to iron or is there something I could wear without ironing that wouldn’t look wrinkled? Instead of all the colors cheering me up, I feel depressed. Will I ever be able to get dressed like I used to? Before Lyme’s I had no clue how much energy it took to pick out an outfit, iron it, and put it on. Now taking a shower depletes my stamina and the thought of trying to pick out a dress among the many choices saps what little energy I have. Slowly I turn and walk away. By the time I put on a pair of comfy pajamas and sit down in my recliner I am trembling with the exertion expanded. At least today I don’t have to lie in bed and stare at dresses that tantalize me with their bright colors.

What dress shall I wear today? I’ve tried to work through my pain determined to go to church this Sunday morning, but finally have to admit defeat. My pain level is too high to endure traveling and sitting. I even ironed a dressy outfit to wear that I haven’t worn in over a year. Now that I have to stay at home I have no desire to wear the ironed dress waiting for me. It will only remind me of what I am missing. So should I choose another outfit to pick up my spirits or simply grab something out of the closet that I wear for everyday? I run my hand down the line of bright print dresses each one a memory of fun times before Lyme’s invaded my life. Dresses that send clues about the kind of person I am; my individuality. The choice is too overwhelming. I need to lie down. As I turn to leave my eyes catch sight of sandals all lined in boxes to match my outfits. When was the last time I wore shoes? I can’t even remember. What has Lyme’s reduced me too? I am no longer the person I used to be. I close my closet doors to shut out the memories.

Life On The Farm

Life On The Farm
Dorcas Annette Walker

Yesterday was a slow day for me, but I was able to get dressed and comb my hair by afternoon- what bliss. I felt civilized at last! I was battling to stay awake with no energy. The rainy chilly day outside matched my mood so I sat in my recliner by the fire and crocheted. Dwight left Sun afternoon to go down to Nashville to stay with his sister and will be coming home Thurs. Eloise (my rabbit foot cat) that usually stays in Dwight's room must have been feeling lonely. I ended up with Eloise stretched out on the top of the recliner at my head, Annabelle (my long hair calico) curled up in my lap purring, while Lucy Lou snoozed at my feet as I crocheted. I almost felt guilty for enjoying it so much. There have been some weeks when it is all I've been able to do to get my newspaper assignments in for my cooking column, Creative Mountain Cookin. Each time I push the button to send in another article and photo, I breathe a sigh of relief and collapse for the rest of the day. I'm always afraid that one week I won't be able to make the deadline. If nothing else it has helped raise my confidence pushing myself beyond what I think I can do and keep my brain cells active. I have learned to work and do stuff while in pain (thankfully there are levels of pain) as long as my pain level stays under a certain point because if I waited until I didn't hurt I'd never do anything. Chronic pain has taught me to stay angry enough to push myself. I refuse to give up! Other days when my pain level is high or I can't stay awake, I go into a zombie mode where I'm in bed and I mentally shut down to survive another day. When my pain level is lower I ignore it the best I can and do what I am able to do- some days are more than others. For each task I accomplish (like get dressed or comb my hair) I mentally act like it is a great achievement to help spur me onward. My biggest frustration is not becoming overwhelmed on the days when I can do a few things as by then my list of stuff to do is staggering.

I have determined this year to find something each day to enjoy no matter how small. Every day that I can I go outside (even if I have to bundle up in my PJ's) for a little bit as it helps clear my mind just to get out of the house. Hopefully it will also build up my strength. I can’t believe how weak I am. On days when I am unable to go outside I sit in my rocker in the sunroom and watch the birds. One day I saw six brilliant red cardinals sitting in my trees surrounding my sunroom while their mates took a turn at my bird feeders. It was awesome! I love (and my cats do too) watching the birds at my feeders. I have managed to keep my feeders filled on the back porch. Dana built an incubator and there are four brown eggs incubating on my table in the sun room. Since the weather dips up and down we have to keep changing the light bulbs to keep the temperature at the right level. Talk about mental stimulation! When Dana is gone Sunday’s preaching, guess who gets to baby-sit his incubating eggs and gather the eggs from the chickens? I got five eggs Sunday- the highest number of eggs yet.

A Tank Half Full of Gas

A Tank Half Full of Gas
Dorcas Annette Walker

Little did I realize that one day my life would end up resembling my neglected car sitting in the driveway. In the past when I drove my car I was always made sure that I had a full tank of gas. As soon as the gas gauge would show half empty I’d stop and fill it back up. I’ve always had a secret fear of being stranded alongside the road with an empty gas tank. Now each day when I wake up I wonder just how far I will make it through the day. Some days after my pain pills kick in I manage to get dressed by dinnertime, only to discover that my energy has run out. The rest of the day has to be spent in my recliner or back in bed. More times than I care to remember, by the time I get up, pop my pills, and eat breakfast I am physically drained as though finishing a day of hard work that leaves me no option but to stagger back to bed totally exhausted like a car with an empty gas tank.

A good day consists of being able to keep going (between numerous breaks) all through the day and cook a simple supper instead of lying around. If I’m lucky to still be up on my feet by supper time, my energy level starts dropping very fast. Sometimes after cooking supper I’ll be so exhausted I have to rest in the recliner before I can eat. Despite my fluctuating energy levels, I refuse to give up and stay in bed as long as I can make my body move. I keep making lists (that keep growing) of things that need to be done. Each day I have to guess how much energy I will have without any gauge to register my energy level. It’s kinda like driving a car with no gas gauge. I start a task hoping that my energy will not suddenly drop without warning. When that happens I barely am able to make it back to bed before collapsing.

There is nothing like living with the uncertainty of one’s strength to undermine your self confidence, especially when day after day you are not able to do simple tasks that you once did automatically. Do you have any idea how much energy it takes to get a shower, dress yourself, brush your teeth, or comb your hair? I now have the energy levels for each task down to a fine science. I feel kin to the senior residents that shuffle down nursing home hallways- folks that I used to pity. Now I am one of them as I concentrate to keep my balance making a conscious effort not to stagger or limp when I walk. At times the energy it expands is simply too much. So I face each day wondering if my energy tank will be half full or half empty.

I Propose, But My Bones Dispose

I Propose, But My Bones Dispose
Dorcas Annette Walker

3 AM: Saturday night I shift restlessly in bed as pain keeps pulling me awake interrupting my sleep. My pain increases enough that I come out of the fog to realize that I need to get up and take more pain medication. I fumble in the darkness for the button light on the clock beside my bed as pain shoots through my body and groan when I see that it is only 3 o’clock in the morning. Not another night of interrupted sleep! My bones scream in protest as I stand, fight for balance, and slowly walk out to the kitchen to warm up some hot chocolate in the microwave to take with my pain medication. Every move I make increases my pain level. After popping a pain pill I concentrate on not spilling the hot chocolate as I stagger across the living room to my recliner and turn on a lamp. Sweat pops out on my forehead and I feel like I’m going to collapse any second. I grit my teeth and slowly settle myself down in the recliner as more pain shoots through my body. I gasp for air and try to slow down my breathing. My hand automatically reaches downward for a magazine in the basket beside my recliner. It will take a half an hour at least for me to feel any relief. Hopefully the colorful pictures or a short article will distract my mind until the pain pill kicks in. Lucy Lou sighs and settles down at my feet. I echo her sigh. Maybe I’ll be able to get enough rest to make it to church this Sunday later on in the morning. I miss seeing my friends and hate the isolation of being forced to stay at home due to pain. After an hour I start to feel a bit groggy. Hopefully a little bit longer my body will relax enough so I can go back to sleep. Two hours later I ease back in bed and let sleep overtake me once more.

7 AM: I can barely focus on my husband’s voice through the sharp pain that hits me as I come back to consciousness. He is asking me if I’m going to be able to go to church. I cry out in pain and turn my head shutting my eyes. Pain surges through my entire body like a raging fire and I grip my teeth to keep from screaming. Try to relax! I order my body as it tenses up under another onslaught of pain. Relax and go back to sleep! I chant over and over inside my head as I feel myself slowly sink back down.

10 AM: When I wake up again it is after 10 o’clock. I won’t be making it to church this Sunday. I blink away tears. Once again my life is interrupted due to pain. I feel depressed seeing the sunshine and beautiful day outside my window. The window stands like a barrier between isolation and normalcy. Too many times I’ve been trapped inside when I want to be out like everyone else. I take more pills and eat a bowl of oatmeal with fruit. I can hardly stay awake to finish my breakfast and gratefully crawl back in bed not waking up until my husband and son come home for lunch.

3 PM: That afternoon still in my PJ’s I try to read in the recliner fighting a strong urge to sleep. I want to stay awake and not miss the entire day. I’ve missed too many days already out of my life. My body will not cooperate and I find myself dozing off and on. I finally give in and stagger back to bed. My life has become reduced to sleeping, waking up, popping pills, eating, and sleeping again. I wake up around suppertime. The house is silent again. My husband and son are back at church and I am alone. I take more pain medication and scrounge around in the refrigerator for leftovers. I manage to stay awake reading a magazine in the recliner until my husband and son comes home from church.

9 PM: I can no longer stay awake so I head back to bed feeling totally wrung out and exhausted as if I have put in a hard day’s work. I drop into a sound sleep and don’t know anything until the next morning.

The next day my pain is under control, but I feel angry and depressed. I’ve missed another day in my life. Why God? Why couldn’t my bones behave and let me be normal again? I didn’t even get to enjoy the sunshine and take a walk outside yesterday. When will I gain back control of my life? I don’t want to spend the rest of my days staggering around trying to stay awake, living in my recliner, and fighting pain. There is so much I yearn to do: writing, painting, working on crafts, sew a quilt square for the church quilt, feed the birds, work in my flower gardens, clean my house, catch up on the wash, not to mention the pile of dirty dishes in the sink…

Beside Still Waters

Beside Still Waters
Dorcas Annette Walker

I groan and roll over as my body protests. Not another day in bed! I shut my eyes in frustration. Will I ever be normal again? Even my doctor isn’t exactly sure what is going on. I went from being an active person to an invalid seemingly overnight. Why God why? Then a verse from the Psalms comes to my mind. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside the still waters. Psalms 23:2 Life certainly has become still now-a-days compared to the hectic pace I used to keep up with before.

First I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia. Maybe my past history of rheumatoid arthritis caused the flare-up. Who knows. All the tests from a stay in the hospital came back normal despite constant headaches, fatigue, and increasing bone pain. I started tracking each day looking for patterns in weather, stress, anything that would give me a clue why I’d wake up with pain radiating throughout my body that exhausted me until I was unable to get out of bed. The constant headaches grew worse as my pain intensified, whick increased pain meds barely affected. Some days I can’t wake up enough to function. Other times the fog in my mind is so severe I was unable to concentrate leaving me feeling confused and scared. I have to hang on the walls to keep my balance. My doctor ordered more tests done as numbness spread to my hands and feet causing me to trip and fall when I try to walk. I started using a walker. I went to a rheumatologist and neurologist. I only got worse. One night the pain in my head intensified to such a degree that I couldn’t sleep. My husband rushed me to the emergency room. I passed out and had mild seizures. A CT scan was done, but everything came back normal. I was put on migraine medication, which only helped for a couple of weeks then was useless. My doctor shook his head in frustration as my symptoms kept increasing.

I don’t have enough energy to get dressed. My goal for a day consists of trying to take a shower or brushing my teeth. I had to give up my kid’s class at the local church where my husband pastored. I couldn’t lead the choir or play the organ. Next I resigned my position as the missionary leader. Instead of doing visitation with my husband, people now brought food to the parsonage. Deep inside I know that God has a purpose in everything that happens, but it is hard to focus on the positive as days dragged by and I was in bed more than up. I feel guilty seeing my husband trying to cope with the unfamiliar territory of housework, cooking, and washing clothes. I try to pray when my mind is clear enough. I remind the Lord how useful I could be if only He would heal my body. Before I had always been an active person that kept going no matter how sick I felt. Now my body refuses to respond to my demands. I feel depressed and useless. On days of intense pain I pop pain meds that put me under only to wake back up in severe pain.

My blood work never showed the presence of Lyme’s disease from tick bites that years before antibiotics had knocked out of my system. Desperate I called a Lyme’s specialist. As soon as I began describing my symptoms I was told that my Lyme’s had come back out of remission. I was in the third stage needing to get on antibiotics immediately. My local doctor agreed to start me on antibiotics to see if it would help. Within a week’s time I began to feel like myself again and the headaches were not as severe. I was hoping by a month’s time I’d be back on my feet again, but I am still bedfast. When will I be normal again? When can I get up for good?

It reminds me of when I was a child and my mother would put us kids down for an afternoon nap. Often I was full of energy and didn’t want to lie still. After what would seem like hours I’d call for my mother. Isn’t it time to get up? My mother would say, “Lay back down, Dorcas. It isn’t time to get up yet. I’ll tell you when you can get up.” It would seem forever until she would say, “You can get up now.” My heavenly Father knows best how long I need to rest quietly beside the still waters. So I’ll try to be patient a bit longer. When I get discouraged He sends me signs of His love. A phone call from a friend to tell me that they are praying for me, a get well card in the mail, even the chirping birds outside my window remind me that God is in control. He has a plan for my life. I can trust Him. I finally get my aching body comfortable and close my eyes. I will not fight the overwhelming fatigue but rest. Maybe tomorrow I will be able to be back up on my feet again. Meanwhile I’m not alone. Beside me a furry, fat cat is purring.