Apologia on whinging

Regardless of the impression you may get reading my bloggy-thing, I really, truly, honestly, don’t whinge much about health stuff In Real Life!  Mostly it’s just to Tuxedo and he’s aware of what’s going on before I properly vocalise it, due to whimpering and crying during sleep, and the involuntary moans and grunts when I wake up / get out of bed in the morning.  I might catalogue the various aches and pains if asked but he knows me well enough to know what’s going on, without the details.

Then again I sometimes do feel the need to report “well my head is killing me, my neck muscles are in major spasm so I can’t see let alone think properly, I want to scream, my back is totally screwed, even my fecking toenails hurt and I wish I were DEAD”, but it’s more to explain my general demeanour than a whinge about how terrible my life is.

I also tend to try to “shut down” too much discussion with family members.  Mostly because they simply don’t understand my condition/s , the ongoing nature and the various ramifications of the whole kit and caboodle.  Mum [funnily enough ha ha] is the worst;  she always asks “But what’s WRONG?” as though this is all new.  Hello?  Then when I finally get pissy with her, after she’s asked 50 million times and I’ve replied with “I’m fine” or “I don’t want to talk about it” [which is pretty clear-cut, don’t you think?], she gets furious and rants irrationally at me for being bad-tempered and a horrible daughter.

Yes well.  The bloody genes came from somewhere and you never questioned doctors and specialists to find out what was wrong with me, or made life easier for me as a child / developing adult, so excuse me if I carry a little baggage about your attitude to my health condition.  It’s there and it is not going away.  Deal.*

* The issue of relatives and friends “dealing” is one I’d like to address in general one day, and get feedback as to the experiences other people with disabilities or issues encounter with friends and family being unable to accept or deal with the reality that this is you, this is your life, that’s the way things are.

I don’t even whinge to doctors, much.  I’ve found it to be a useless exercise.  Those specialists who don’t listen aren’t going to listen no matter how long or hard I talk.  The very, very rare great and good ones who get it, who empathise and are compassionate don’t require The Whinge.  My gorgeous and wonderful GP recognises how tough things get for me, as much by what I don’t say as what I do.  He knows I cope with it by putting on the brave face and having a sense of – admittedly somewhat warped and black – humour.  If I didn’t laugh, I’d cry … as mentioned in a previous post he’s only seen me lose it once and then only for about half a minute.

. . . . . . . . . .

The reality is I don’t get very many “good” days and it all gets very, very boring and frustrating and tedious.  Not just the extreme chronic pain which feck knows is tough enough to cope with.  It’s the feeling of being locked in a medieval Iron Maiden;  I’m trapped, cant do anything about the situation, can’t do anything full stop, unable to get up and move around or achieve things … yep, very frustrating and boring.

So yeah, apologies for the whinging – except I have to do it SOMEWHERE or else I’ll explode, if you know what I mean, and a personal / internal explosion can occur in many ways – whether it be self-harm [been there done that] or climbing to the top of a water tower and opening fire.

And to be honest I don’t think my whinging is too over the top – it’s not daily wailing and tearing my hair, rending of limbs and self pity fests about how my life really really sucks and everything’s awful and how terrible it all is and no one has it as bad as I do WAAAAAAH.

That kind of thing just doesn’t get me anywhere – but the occasional vent here really helps.  It’s my place, after all,  where I can have a bit of a moan and you know, if people don’t like it they don’t have to read it.  Not that I have to worry about “A Readership” anyway, hee.

Edited to add:  I keep a record in my diary of “progress”.  Days where I’m pretty much incapacitated, when I can’t function or move at all just lie in bed with hot packs, whimpering and / or writhing – can’t even read let alone tippy-tap-type – get a big black line scored diagonally through that day [I’ve toned this down this year – just a discreet X in the upper right corner.  [Funny – on X days both the fluffies lie very tight on either side of me, a most comforting and guarding presence!]  My diaries from 2006 and 2007 are depressing to say the least – nearly every day has a big black line scored through it.   They were tough years, not something anyone wants to repeat or recall.   This year has been loads better with only a couple of X’s per week.  The other days are middling where-in I can get up and potter around the house, exercise, play with the computer, maybe take a walk up the shop / café / off-licence.  GOOD days are rare but I’m having a fair few o them lately, where I’m full of beans and bounce, am up for anything and the pain levels are manageable.  Off course after a good day or two I have a few X’s but that’s how it rolls . . .

But I definitely do prefer the horsey posts and rants;  much more fun.

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Comments

  • otterkat  On Tuesday 28 October 2008 at 7:42 am

    Edited to add: I keep a record in my diary of “progress”. Days where I’m pretty much incapacitated, when I can’t function or move at all just lie in bed with hot packs, whimpering and / or writhing – can’t even read let alone tippy-tap-type – get a big black line scored diagonally through that day [I’ve toned this down this year – just a discreet X in the upper right corner. [Funny – on X days both the fluffies lie very tight on either side of me, a most comforting and guarding presence!] My diaries from 2006 and 2007 are depressing to say the least – nearly every day has a big black line scored through it. They were tough years, not something anyone wants to repeat or recall. This year has been loads better with only a couple of X’s per week. The other days are middling where-in I can get up and potter around the house, exercise, play with the computer, maybe take a walk up the shop / café / off-licence. GOOD days are rare but I’m having a fair few o them lately, where I’m full of beans and bounce, am up for anything and the pain levels are manageable. Off course after a good day or two I have a few X’s but that’s how it rolls . . .

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