Spoons and trying to do more


Morning all, it’s another rainy day here in Minnesota.  I usually write 2-4 posts early in the week, and that way I have enough spoons on writing days as well as enough spoons on other days to keep going.

Young Master Duke just approached me for his pain pill. He is probably smarter than me in controlling his arthritis. He manages his spoons pretty well. On low spoon days, he asks more often, nudging my right leg at the desk, and not begging but insisting. He then gets his pill, and goes to lay down. He knows that a simple dog treat, with a tiny bit of hemp oil is enough to keep him from hurting from daily living. Note: I never use peppermint and hemp oil with him. Peppermint is poison to dogs.

In a weird stance on increasing the number of spoons available, I have been overusing them on purpose. The means on rainy days, when my body just wants to sit and do nothing but scroll or turning a page, I get up and work. I use topical creams, otc meds, and hemp oil myself to just keep going.

I had to do this. The drive train on my wheelchair went to sheet over the winter. I couldn’t push my chair anymore, and just rolling over in bed caused me to scream. I needed to walk more, I needed to increase my range of motion. I remembered the rat bastards in physical therapy used to push me beyond my limits to increase my range of motion. So, I got to work.

I purchased 2 new canes. I began to use them. Now, I stilll can’t stand for more than a minute, but I can walk with both canes. For arm stretches, I used a cane in increase my reach, and stretched the muscles that would cause me to scream.

I did weird things. I would set up stitching outside, to force the distance I had to walk. I would haul my stitching outside myself. If I needed a tent set up, I would set the f-er up myself. I began to do more rather than less.

My pain is fibro and arthritis. It’s a bitch from the bowels of hell. My instincts are to just crawl the f to bed. I still do. However, I also still do as much as I can. It’s conducive to my survival. No one will push me around in my wheelchair. When I become a widow, no one will be there to help me around the house. I will be alone.

I have to be able to take care of myself, on a spoons day or a no spoons day. Please keep in mind, I am talking about me, and about my personal body. I am not a doctor, a physical therapist or anything like that. I’m a short fat woman in a wheelchair in constant pain.

So, for today, a rain day. I’m going to set up in the garage, I’m going to open the big door, and stitch to the sound of the rain. I will listen to podcasts, and I will be okay. I might cry a little, swear a little more, but I will be fine in the long run. I’m not stupid enough to stitch with wet fiber folks, I won’t be out in the rain personally at all.

Take care my friends, please don’t give up. Please keep striving to do a little more each day. -L 

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