Ow, This Hurts

Listen, I know I'm goofy. If the truth be known, and after all these years, I think we're all goofy, it's just that some people hide it better than others. I seem to have the rather unfortunate ability to let my goofiness flow to the masses.

I've been thinking lately about psychosomatic illnesses. Which I have. I think. Well, I mean, I know there's one recurring one I have. But it was quite a revelation to realize that something else I've been suffering with for a while seems to be psychosomatic as well.

For years I've had a problem with anxiety-driven symptoms. The most prevalent of those being heart palpitations, coupled with that ever present "help!-there's-an-elephant-sitting-on-my-chest" feeling. Back in the early days of this, it was a very upsetting and worrying thing. There's nothing quite like feeling the breath is being stolen from your body.

And it's the oddest thing. I always knew, or at least after the first couple of times it happened I knew, that it was not in my body but in my head. I just couldn't convince myself of it. Until...

Until I took a trip with my cousin Jacob to Atlanta. In the two weeks preceding the trip, I was sure I was walking my last steps. My heart was pounding, slow, fast, hard, my breathing was labored, I felt horrid. And then we got in the car on a Friday afternoon, and with every mile I put between me and home, the heart started beating more regularly, and the elephant on my chest stood up a little more, and my breathing got back to normal. And I felt great. It was so noticeable; it was like being hit in the face.

A couple of more times of the exact same situation, and I realized that yes, I too was the victim of the old "it's all in your head" syndrome. And once I accepted that it's made life a lot easier. It was the greatest health discovery of my life, at least until I met Mr M and he discovered my Migrating Brain Tumor (MBT).

Lately, well, lately being the past few months, I've been complaining of pain. Pain in my knees and my feet. What I call "floating pain." Floating pain means today I may arise from bed and not be able to stand. My left knee may not work. My right ankle may not work. Both feet may hurt so much I want to cry. They may feel like they're actually broken. My right knee may catch with every step. And I may rise and feel OK. I keep attributing this to my age, and my size, and while there certainly may be some truth to that, there may be something else I need to attribute it to.

My brain.

This past weekend, as you know, I took a trip to North Carolina to play with the polytet. I spent the days beforehand getting my stuff together, packing...and wondering what the hell kind of shoes to take along. Because my feet were killing me. Both feet. The bones in the tops of my feet felt like they'd been crushed.

We loaded onto the bus Saturday morning around 8:30. I arrived back around 8:30 Sunday night. During that time, not a pain, not a catch, not a crick, in either foot, either knee, either ankle, either leg. I walked up inclines, stairs, stood in one position, climbed on and off the bus. Everything was fine.

Monday morning, woke up, right knee caught. Walked like Frankenstein to the shower.

And that started me thinking. Thinking about 6 or 7 weekends of Oktoberfest. Up there on the mountain, the gravel parking lot, the standing and sitting and toasting and moving and walking around. Did I have constant leg, knee, and foot pain? No. I had none.

Frankly, it's starting to make my head hurt.

I can truly accept the fact that I can make my heart palpitate with my own unhappiness and anxiety. And in fact, I'm now to the point where most times I can keep it from happening, or make it stop, just by thinking myself out of it. But I can't accept this where the knees and feet are concerned. Because it's pain. It's real honest-to-God pain. I don't seem to be able to fathom that my mind can conjure up real honest-to-God pain in my body.

And yet, there has to be some truth to it. After all, B'field can't be some sort of strange vortex where all who are in the town limits feel some sort of physical agony. Mental, yes, but not physical. Does my day-to-day life (as well as my day-to-day pickles) evoke crippling pain? Is it depression, boredom, fear, sadness, anger?

Am I crazy?

I don't know. All I know is that yesterday and today to work I wore Birkies. The shoe that proves God has a sense of humor. The joke being that the most comfortable thing you can put on your feet, Birkies and socks, are also the most Godawful ugliest thing you can put on your feet. I haven't cared. It felt good.

Feeling good - the secret weapon against...well, feeling bad, I guess.

Now my head does hurt.