Good Pain

I never work out anymore. I’ve never really enjoyed it that much, but now it wears me out way too much for it to be worth it. Twenty minutes of light exercise wears me out, and I end up needing a 3-hour nap. My doctor actually gave me permission to not exercise if I’m going to have to pay for it later.

But I’ve been doing physical therapy, and my therapist, Juan, has been having me do some exercises. (I guess that’s his job.) About two weeks ago, we were working on some things. He told me I’d be sore the next day. Actually, he told me it would hurt when I sneeze. This particular exercise involved whopping 4 pound weights.

For the next two days, I was sore. But it was a good sore. It was the first time in a long time I hurt from doing something. It was a good pain.

I guess part of me misses that. Either the pain-on-purpose or pain from working out made me a little happy. Sometimes pain can be good.

The Color of Pain

I am a lighting designer. I love doing lighting and playing with all the various colors. Several years ago, I went to a marching band competition and closed my eyes to listen to the music. All of the sudden, I saw the music in color. “I see music in color” because sort of my tagline.

A few months later, I was playing with magnetic poetry and made this little diddy. (see photo)

Lately, I’ve been doing physical therapy on my

knees and my back. Whenever something hurts, Whahnn, my therapist, asks me what it feels like. Sharp, dull, pinching… What I’ve noticed is all I ever think is, “It feels blue.” “It’s purple.”

Apparently I see pain in color too.

Is that weird? Does anyone else associate pain that way?

Just Focus!

I had two appointments in the last week that didn’t go as planned. I’ll share them with you one at a time, so you don’t get bogged down. Neither of them were terrible, relatively speaking, but both of them had unexpected outcomes and left me a little down.

I went in for my Plaquenil screening like a good lupus patient. When on the drug, you are supposed to get your eyes checked every year because it can leave deposits on the retinas. If caught early enough, it is reversible.

Going do the optometrist always makes me nervous. I’ve never had any problems with my vision, and I can see better than most people. Plus, for my job/hobby, all I need is my eyes and one appendage that moves.

Like normal, I did the field vision test. You know, the one with all the little dots, and you hit the button when you see them. I did my left eye, and the MA said I did it in record time. (The longer it takes you, the more you missed. If you miss them, you have to keep coming back to them over and over.) I did my right eye, and that was faster. One down.

Next was the color test. As a lighting designer, this one makes me nervous. What if I stop being able to distinguish colors? Even just a little change could make a difference in my craft. After finishing this one, the MA asked if I was racing someone. Deep breath. All done, and very quickly.

I sat in the second waiting room for a bit, then went in to do the normal “read the letters” test. Oddly enough, my right eye had a hair of trouble on the bottom line. I think I missed one letter. (I know, I know. Tons of people can’t even hope to read the bottom line. I’ve just never had a second guess before.) Then she dilated my eyes, and I waited.

Oddly enough, while I waited, I got really uncomfortable. I put my feet up on the doc’s little circle chair. I can only sit in a chair for a matter of seconds before I go crazy. Apparently, my blood pressure is too low to actually get enough oxygen to my brain when I’m sitting. The doc made a face at me when he walked in and saw me using his chair in this manner.

He did the standard tests, adding a few he hasn’t done before. I started to get nervous. We talked. I asked questions. Why don’t my eyes get unblurry very quickly after I close them hard? Why can’t I keep them focused when I’m tired? Why all the extra tests?

He answered me well, but not as I’d hoped.

My vision is going. Slowly, but going. Glasses will be on the docket soon. Damn. Over the next few years, things will get blurrier, and I will join the ranks of those who can’t find their glasses. My eyes are the only part of my body the consistently work and don’t give me trouble. My fail-safe is gone.

But there aren’t actually any physical problems with my eyes. I haven’t done much research into how the eye works because I ever thought I’d need to.

Here was the other kicker: I can’t focus my eyes when I’m tired. I asked the doc about this.

Well, he said, when the fatigue gets bad, you don’t have the energy for the little tiny muscles in your eyes to work.

You’re kidding me. I’m that tired, that tiny eye muscles can’t get the energy they need. Is this normal? I am so screwed, I though.

Then I think back. I’ve noticed that it takes energy to focus my eyes, and I can almost see my energy meter draining when I do. On top of that, I’ve had trouble smiling for pictures, as if the amount of energy to activate my face muscles was too much.

Still, no one can tell me why I’m tired.

What does this mean for the future? What does this mean for when I’m thirty, or forty, or twenty-seven?

More unanswered question. More loss.

I would love to end this with something like, “But God continues to be faithful, and He will take care of me.” Yes, it’s true. But it’s hard to imagine right now. All I want to do is be done being sick. Or at least be done being exhausted all the time. Really, what I think about is that in heaven, there will be no pain, no fatigue, no blurry vision. Just Jesus.

Until then, I wait. And let’s face it, I’ll probably fall asleep in that waiting room too.