All I can imagine is that the excercise I've been doing is stretching tight muscles. I really don't know why, but my calves have terrible Charlie horses, regularly. And, when they're not cramping, the threat is always there, anyway.
I try to ignore the threat, so I can keep working my body into shape.
But the cramps are so strong, they immobilize me. They can literally bring me to my knees, if I can't quickly find a place to sit.
And the place, in my belly, where they took my baby still hurts rather badly. I think it's scar tissue. But it feels like nerve damage; the pain radiates out and away from the source, through my hip, around my back.
It's almost time for the dentist. I've kept myself so busy -- with radio, housekeeping, writing, etc. -- that I haven't had much of my brain vacant enough to make myself miserable about it.
I get only flickers of panic, fear, dread and anger. For this, I'm very grateful.
Frankly, I wish it was already the fifteenth of July, so the initial exam would be over and the process of removing the decay and death from my mouth would already be happening.
I really want to be done with this.
Dental problems leave one vulnerable to other, opportunistic infections. They weaken the entire immune system, and mine's compromised enough, already.
It terrifies me to have a source of infection, and possible gangrene, so close to my brain, eyes and ears.
No, I don't know what this dental work will look like. I don't know how traumatic it will be, either for my body, mind or heart.
It could be terrible, you know; they could leave me more damaged than I am, already.
But I can't have open sores, exposed nerves, absesses and rotting food in my head. It's just too damn dangerous.
I just hope I haven't waited too long, already.
The good news is that Porkchop, "Grace" and I will walk the volcanoes Sunday, at sunrise.
I'll be home in time for Food Not Bombs.
The environment's very different up there than here, although one can see each place from the other.
Insects and plants are very different up there. I could spend the whole day, on my belly, looking at the living things up there.
I don't know the elevation up there, but my ears always pop on the car ride back DOWN to five thousand feet and home!
It sounds and smells different, too. It just seems more Real up there.
We are to make this a regular outting: Sunday mornings, at the Volcanoes, at sunrise. For a month, anyway; after that, who knows?
It's medicine to me. I'll miss it, when I can't do it anymore.
I'm trying to encourage another woman friend to walk the local park with me. She has been ill for a very long time. I think I've nearly convinced her, but she has problems with making commitments and sticking to them. We'll see.
It would be nice to form a women's walking group to go around the park with me.
I hope for kindness, reassurance, compassion and encouragement, as I make these huge and frightening changes in my life. At the same time, I try to provide those same properties to those around me. Especially now that I'm honest enough to realize how important they are to me these days.
It's nearly time, right now, for me to go out there and walk again. It's hard; it really is. I feel so inadequate. I'm in over my head: I don't know, really, how to help my body and not hurt her. I feel so weak and incomplete. It's so tempting to give up, in an attempt to avoid pain.
But pain is, apparantly, going to be my constant companion for the rest of my life. I won't let it ruin me.
So, it's time to get up, get dressed, get out, get on with it.
