237. Gait Training with The Boys

Gait Training with The Boys | AVM Rupture Recovery | Ann Ning Learning How

I love this picture.  It always makes me smile.  I think it was taken pretty early in my recovery after I learned how to walk and was confident enough to forgo the rollator and use a stroller instead.  We were practicing my walking at the mall.  Josh is sitting in the stroller bc I need it to be weighed down enough so it won’t flip if I lose my balance and Ezra was too light – see how little he is?

I suppose I’ve been in need of smiles lately but I’ve been unconscious of it.  When I got scared as we pulled out of the driveway and I saw Tanpo gently jogging home Mommy told me she had noticed I’ve been a little skittish lately.  (I was startled bc I was like, Who is this strange man in our driveway?)  Maybe it’s a combination of my gait regression (it makes me more nervous about falling), and anxiety over the possibility of vocal surgery.  In any case, I hadn’t noticed, but of course Mommy, with her eagle eyes, did.  So I’ve been needing to look at this picture a lot per my philosophy of “How to laugh when you really feel like crying,” below.

I’ve been to see CMD, a new ENT, and my dermatologist this week.  I hope to see M (37) next week.  I’m supposed to go for a reevaluation at VT but I might be having too much fun in real life to go back to VT.  Even though the practice is wonderful, it would kind of violate my unofficial rule about going back to my old hospitals (even though it’s a private practice).  I feel like my vision is the one thing that hasn’t regressed lately – my sister even said that my eyes point in tandem straighter and more often than they used to, even before I got sick.  :).

One last thing – I’m itchy again.  Blech.  It’s not as bad as a couple of months ago, but it got worse enough for me to talk about it with Dr. C (my dermatologist), and get a prescription.  I’m supposed to tell him if it’s not better in a week.  I’ve already discarded most of my bath items…so I’m kind of running out of things to eliminate.  He did confirm, though, that it looks like a contact issue, not a food allergy reaction.

I then asked him to take care of a couple of bumps on my skin that aren’t itchy – they just bother me.  He looked at them and said they’re permanent.  I was like, WHAT?!  I’m stuck with these?  When I’ve asked him in the past he’s been able to remove other stuff (“Is this going to involve a needle?” “Do you want me to answer or just do it?”), and I was hoping this time would be the same.  “I left my magic wand at home,” he said.  Booo.  These little things are minor in the grand scheme of things, I know – I was just hoping for instant gratification.

Oh, well.  I guess that’s not how this thing works.  But I’ll go look at the picture of me and The Boys again and laugh at how babyish Ezzie is and how he’s holding hands with Josh just for kicks.  Then I’ll smile since I know I now have a 3rd “son” – Peter!

How to Laugh when you Really Feel Like Crying (dealing with long term illness)

I learned this skill out of necessity.  One night, near Thanksgiving ’11 (relatively early in my recovery), I thought I was ready to read some of Tanpo’s old emails so I started in on one that had flickered across the iPad’s screen.  It detailed the visit of DnA to RIO (when I refused to eat anything in front of them bc, “I don’t want anyone to see me like this,”) and at the end Dad wrote how A asked if I had any prayer requests.  “Courage and stamina,” I replied.

When I read those two words I burst into tears.  I had forgotten that part of the visit but hearing my own concerns reminded me just how scared and tired I had been.

Okay, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, I told Mommy, who had come over.  I wiped my tears and then said, I know what to do – I need to look at my babies.  And I immediately touched the “Photos” button and laughed at the pictures I saw there.  The one that cracked me up the most is above.

Since then, I’ve employed the same strategy often.  I know my nieces and nephews make me laugh so I keep a catalog of stories in my head to bring out when  I need to focus my attention on something cheerful.  The catalog has expanded to include the antics of my friends’ children and other random kids I meet (e.g. “Pirate!”).

Laughing when I feel like crying is another reason I keep Ed around.  He does not like crybabies, but sometimes he feels kind of sad himself since he’s a widower and he misses his dearly departed wife.  His cooking was actually an outgrowth of his grief and I threatened to send him to food rehab.  Ed has since toned the cooking down a bit, and what he does cook I enjoy in my fictional epicurean adventures.

So here’s a summary of how to laugh when you really feel like crying:

1)   Don’t look back.
Uncle KC gave me this pointer.  He and Aunty M have been friends of our family forever and he had a stroke several years ago.  When I saw him for the first time post-AVM I was pleased to find that he immediately understood what I was saying when I was explaining my attempts to walk and how I’d be stepping but my left leg would be “back there” (pointing behind me).  I forgot until a couple of weeks ago that I had seen Uncle KC and Aunty M very soon before my bleed – I had just come home from Africa and they stopped by for a visit.  The contrast in my situation then and now is a little heartbreaking, but I think the advice to not look back is good.  It’s okay to remember, of course, but there’s no need to relive the horror of days gone by.  E.g. sometimes I still get anxious when I see a public bathroom stall since that was the last thing I saw before I got sick.  I try not to turn the scene over and over in my mind. It occurred to me that the Ladies’ Room at work was the beginning of a lot of Divine intervention in my life – starting with the ladies who helped me

2)   Keep a mental list of funnies.
For me, this means keeping pictures of “my children” handy – on electronic devices or hard copies scattered throughout the house.  I also keep the stories about them that make me laugh at the top of my mind  so fishing them out is easy.  No wonder I remember funny things about kids that their parents have no recollection of.

3)  Assume responsibility for changing the subject.
If I have a sad moment, Mommy will often chat with me and then when I’m trying to cheer myself up I’ll either ask her to tell me a favorite story or I’ll bring up Ed.  Talking about Ed (e.g. Ed is allergic to marshmallows, Ed is hosting a disco party tonight and you’re invited) makes me laugh and will make Mommy laugh, too, because of its sheer ridiculousness.  Practicing the art of deflection (by changing the subject), and making someone laugh is very empowering.  I didn’t decide to get sick, but I can decide when and how I’m going to talk about it.  And PS I am still amusing.  (Or maybe Mommy is just a very obliging audience.  I don’t talk about Ed as much with Tanpo since the fact that Ed is my Recovery Buddy is still a little “out there” for him.)

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4 thoughts on “237. Gait Training with The Boys

  1. Reading this post this morning — once again you have blessed me more than you will know. Going through tough times over the past year or so— really rough—- and dealing with my own mind and the struggles there: what great and timely reminders:
    Don’t look back…. go to the Funnies …. and (tried and true behavior changing strategy that worked in Pre-k) distract and redirect. Thanks…. and : Onward with Him !!!!!

  2. this reminded me of my own techniques. Just lastt night I was very frustrated and took it out on the stationary bike. As I was riding unnaturally fast my husband said “Are you going to kill me in my sleep?” I responded “I’ll be too tired to do that”

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