I have been posting entries here for nine months now. When I put together the first little note, last Thanksgiving Day, I wasn’t at all sure where I was going with this. I still don’t know that I’ve ever really defined a direction, but at this point, when I’m away for as much as five days now (the length of time since my last entry), I start getting a little antsy…thinking it’s about time to write something more. Besides: when that many days of living go by, a lot can happen. And, many things have happened in my life lately.
Some of the issues I talk about here come under the heading of random expressions of joy and angst. And, let’s be honest, in my writings I know I’ve focused more on angst than joy. But three days ago was my birthday, and though I was experiencing the usual self-reflection and anxiety about where I am at with my life (angst), there was some measure of joy as well. One of the best things to happen, mostly because it was so unexpected, was to receive a singing (“happy birthday to you”) phone call from friends in Portland. Although the day itself turned in to be one of my longest work days in a while, it was great to be remembered that morning.
I took the occasion of having a birthday, in tandem with working four-day weeks at the moment, to make an appointment with a doctor here for a check-up. I’ve written previously about the physical symptoms I’ve struggled with in recent months, speculating about such conditions as peripheral neuropathy and post-traumatic stress disorder. I know there’s a bunch of stuff going on with me physically that is not good. The stress I’ve endured the last two and a half years has taken a toll that I am aware of every single moment of every single day. And, the approaches I have used so far to address my symptoms have yielded only modest progress toward health. Through my chiropractor, I have used deep-tissue massage, ultra-sound, and chiropractic adjustment. I saw an acupuncturist for months, enduring the needles and moxibustion. I have continued on with the moxibustion approach myself, as well as frequent self-massaging of my legs. I take hot baths, and try to calm myself psychoacoustically. I read Pema Chödrön books and other spiritually-oriented tomes. And, I’ve just started reading Why Zebras Don’t Get Ulcers: The Acclaimed Guide to Stress, Stress-Related Diseases, and Coping. With this last book, I’m attempting to get a handle on all the psycho-neuro-biological dimensions of the human experience and how stress has led to the physical symptoms I’m experiencing. The physician I was seeing in Portland was of no help in addressing my condition, although he agreed with my personal assessment of how I got to this point and provided some medication to help with my anxiety.
The first week I was at work here, I asked around for suggestions for local doctors. The second week I decided to make some calls. The first doctor had not taken new patients in five years, I was told. However, the receptionist for the second doctor took down some basic information and consulted with him. Yes, I was told, the doctor would see me.
My appointment was two days ago, the day after my birthday, at the end of my third week of work. I was nervous about pursuing this, but, at the same time, very pleased with myself that I was following through on my commitment to focus on getting healthy. This physician seemed to be quite perceptive about my condition, had a name for it, and expressed some confidence that we could find an appropriate treatment. This was incredible news! It’s his view that I am suffering from Chronic Myofascial Pain, which explains the ongoing weirdness happening in my extremities, especially my left leg and foot. Although I’ve got blood work ordered to rule out other possible causes, what I’ve learned about this condition so far is indeed a fit with the symptoms I’ve been dealing with. I’ve already purchased a “survival manual” for suffers of this condition.
After all the hopelessness I’ve felt having endured this condition for over 15 months, I’m now hopeful that I can actually, eventually, heal myself. Hope, especially around the time of my birthday, is quite-unexpected. (But wonderful: don't get me wrong!)
To round out this report of recent developments, I’ll mention that I attended the University of Oregon 
summer commencement ceremony yesterday morning, as Beccalynn (Katrina’s daughter and Bryan and Tamson’s sister) is within a few credits of finishing her degree and decided to participate in graduation at this point. It was a beautiful day and I was delighted to be on hand for another rite-of-passage occasion. I’ve known Beccalynn since her late adolescence, and to see her now, married, the mother-of-two, and a college graduate, is another sign of hope for the future.
Wow.