Tag Archives: physical therapy

I Don’t Look Sick

13 Feb

I don’t look sick, but I am. I have an invisible illness, fibromyalgia, which causesĀ  intermittent pain throughout the body; arthritis; fatigue and brain fog; and, possibly, my tinnitus. I also have irritable bowel syndrome (IBS), depression and occasional bouts of anxiety. All are connected to each other and to stress.IMG_2054

Stress produces harmful hormones that in large doses can damage the immune system, causing a variety of autoimmune conditions, such as I have developed in the time that I’ve been taking care of Chuck since his stroke in 2007 (and about which I published a book, Stroke Happens, in 2017). The fibromyalgia pain and the unpredictability of my IBS symptoms (bloating, cramps, constipation, diarrhea, fatigue and brain fog) make it difficult for me work reliably.

My symptoms have been sneaking up for years, but suddenly increased in intensity, frequency and duration in the summer of 2018 after a particularly stressful personal interaction. I have submitted to dry needling, physical therapy, food sensitivity testing and other labs; I have sought medical help from specialists, but none in my are (South Carolina) were able to help me, so I have been referred by my general practitioner to the Mayo Clinic.

Meanwhile, I am learning to let go of the things I can’t control–in other words, most of life’s events–and control what I can–that is, my reaction to those events. I practice yoga and meditation; exercise; engage in a hobby (bowling); schedule time daily to “play” (spending time with my dogs in the backyard); eat well (I’m a vegetarian); don’t smoke; and am at a healthy weight. I get an occasional massage, which is one of the best therapies for pain because it suppresses the pain response and stimulates the release of serotonin and dopamine, the feel-good hormones.

Lately, I located a podcast, Like Mind, Like Body, which featured an interview with a doctor specializing in pain. Afterward, I ordered his book, Unlearn Your Pain, and have been reading the material, which includes worksheets and writing assignments. I also subscribed to an app, Curable, which offers meditation, brain training, expressive writing and education designed to help people recover from chronic pain. I can report a significant reduction in my pain since I started these regimes, and I highly recommend them.

My physical manifestations of stress make my life more challenging that it has to be. I’m sure I’m not the only caretaker–or victim of stress–who is suffering from such complaints. I understand how frustrating it is, and I hope that by sharing my experience, I can help someone else find a path to healing. Please feel free to reach out with your experiences with chronic pain, caretaking and healing.

Best, Laura Ann Garren

 

Moving On

24 Nov

The other day I announced to my email list that I had started a blog. I received a message from a friend congratulating me on my “blob.” I laughed, but when I sat down to write my first entry, I froze. I couldn’t decide what to write about. I felt like a blob. I found it difficult to channel the experience, perhaps because it was difficult to relive.

I finally decided to make this entry about moving on, because at one time the thought was unimaginable. The stroke happened to me as well as to Chuck, and I thought I would never be happy again. However, I have managed to find a level of contentment and peace I never thought possible.

The first step, obviously, was to get through the crisis itself. Next was to get Chuck what he needed in terms of continued therapy, which absorbed most of my energy for the first year and was driven in part by my desire for his complete recovery. When I realized that goal was not reachable, I then had to accept it, which was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I had to let go of the idea of Chuck as he was before the stroke. DSCN1338_1_2.jpgThe process was very painful because that was the prize I had been reaching toward, the finish line that had kept me in the race.

I spent the next couple of years avoiding reality. We left our small town to move the city, and then back again. I missed having access the unfettered outdoors: hiking in the woods, swimming in the lake, walking in the country. However, during our “exile,” I received some gifts I would not have otherwise. The first was yoga. The second was being able to be present for a dying friend. I have I learned to find silver linings in the stormiest of clouds.

I also rediscovered my love of writing, which has helped me recover my identity. Garren Biz Card copyI began contributing to an award-winning wildlife magazine, and five years later, I wrote a book (The Chattooga River: A Natural and Cultural History) and published a manuscript, Stroke Happens.

51ZBPymvoMLMy point is that I had to actively seek contentment and fulfillment, not wait for them to find me. For a time, I lost myself in the role of caretaker and victim. I had to redefine myself, or more specifically inhabit the self I had become. The act of writing, or finding my voice, enabled me to move on while remaining in place. May everyone else in a caretaking role be able to do so, as well.

Best, Laura Ann Garren

%d bloggers like this: