"It is in moments of illness that we are compelled to recognize that we live not alone but chained to a creature of a different kingdom, whole worlds apart, who has no knowledge of us and by whom it is impossible to make ourselves understood: our body." - Marcel Proust---------------------------
The quote above speaks to the mind attempting to recognize its connection to a foreign entity, as though the two are clearly separate from one another.
Today's lesson for me is to be quiet and listen to what your body is trying to say...listen...mine was speaking loud and clear, but I was not still enough to hear it's message. In this instance, it is the body attached to a noisy, chattering creature from another kingdom: the mind.
Two days this week, after running errands and driving for six to eight hours each day, I returned home with screaming, burning, aching pain in my back. Of course, my ever active mind gets busy explaining why my back is so uncomfortable. 'I've been driving most of the day and that stresses my back to maintain a sitting balance' or 'my wheelchair cushion is still not right...it doesn't give my back enough support' or 'I didn't rest well last night' or 'it's spasms' and on and on and on goes the explanatory litany. 'If I just relax for awhile' or 'do my stretches again' it will go away.
'HELLO!!! Is anyone out there paying attention?', I imagine my body demanding, 'this hurts, listen to me'. I continue to relax, stretch, move from position to position trying to find relief. 'Okay, it's time to go to bed' I tell myself, 'I will feel better in the morning'. I finish my bowel and bladder routine and notice as I empty my drainage bag and irrigate my catheter that my urine is darker than usual. 'maybe I didn't drink enough water' my mind chimes in.
I snuggle into bed turning this way and that to minimize leg spasms, avoid pulling on my catheter, and soothe my sore back. 'Ahhhh...that's better', this thought floats through my mind as my tired, sore body gives up for the night. When I woke up, I didn't feel better. That uncomfortable knot in my back near the bottom of my ribs is still there. I notice when I roll over that there is blood in my catheter and the urine in my collection bag looks like cloudy, dark tea. 'HELLO! Now I've got your attention...finally! I've been trying to tell you that something is wrong! Maybe next time you'll stop talking and listen!'
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