Pain is such a distraction isn’t it? You have things set out on a list, ready to do each thing, pain enters the scene it demands immediate attention. For example, I wrote something important in my blog so (ha ha) I don’t understand why it came as a surprise to me when it actually eventuated. Well, yes I do know why, pain was at me. My parents are both born in November. This year my dad died and my mum turned eighty. I can only blame it on the fact that my lower lip healing process is lasting; my face hurts all the time. Pain is knock knock knocking… The incision wound has healed over, I was so pleased I went back into hospital so they could snip it back open yesterday for nostalgia. Well, not exactly.
Apart from the fresh scab left over from yesterday; this one in the centre of my bottom lip in case you hadn’t noticed; my new ‘Harry Potter scar’. It bursts out of, what’s now off centre, of the lip and blasts down into a new dimpled mound on my chin.
Every time I look in the mirror I see it eventually. Despite trying not to look at it too much; you know what it’s like after you’ve had a new haircut and you keep looking in the mirror every hour or so to see if it looks any better yet? This is my face, not a haircut, but it can get a bit like that.
It’s new, I’m getting used to how it looks: when people tell me how ‘good’ it looks and ‘how well the cancer removal procedure has gone,’ I have mixed feelings. It is another little life lesson in invisible disability. Like when my back is out and I can barely walk without a frame and someone comes along and slaps you on the back as though you were sunburnt in the schoolyard. They don’t understand the pain involved. You don’t look ‘crippled’ so why would you be feeling that way? So distracting.
Something physical that causes blockage to your natural flow, it can cause pain and anxiety but it can’t be seen by others, an invisible disability. The age old story, no one else knows how it feels and if the obvious isn’t there to slap ‘em in the face; I’ve never been an unintentional dribbler before either.
I’ve ‘dribbled on’ verbally in that way you sometimes have to do on-air because something is not working and you need to stretch the program out a few seconds. People who know me know I don’t mind talking as a form of communication at all, and yes I rather enjoy it. But socially as a person in terms of saliva or drool, until lately I haven’t been an unintentional dribbler; not from the mouth.
I was on a range of medications that caused other types of dribbling but I’ll leave that horror comedy monster aside for the moment.
The procedure has left my lower lip swollen along the lightening scar seam. Best way to describe it is, imagine you had a knuckle in the middle of your lower lip. Imaging someone has just crushed the knuckle in your lower lip with a pair of pliers and consequently it is throbbing. Got that?
A couple of days after the surgery I actually sang at my father’s funeral, and could barely speak for days after that although I was called upon to travel interstate and speak at a meeting. I think I took a few “The Lost Weekend” type days on pain killers and adrenalin, funeral included. So distracted all I could say is I watched some really well-made-for-television drama. I got lost in Dean J. DeFino’s ‘The HBO Effect’ while reliving my surgical procedure over and over. As the flesh bonds it swells, hardens, feels hot, tender, aggravated.
I don’t like to take pain killers. I’d rather skin some weed up and relax my way out of the pain rather than cover it up. I am on other medication so I don’t enjoy the effect of paracetamol on the system loaded in with other things that all rely on being absorbed with food. More pain, more distraction.
My metabolism blocks up after a day or two on pain killers, another comedy horror monster this time very much drawing on the traditions of Samuel Beckett; I will not dump on you now.
I try to stay away from people while this really distracting part of the healing process is taking place but sometimes people just get up in your face don’t they? If I may double track for a moment and say I tried to stay away from people while the really distracting consequences of being sexually assaulted as a boy wore off and to some degree I was successful in that; it is not the path I would advise others to take.
Is it a primal desire to hide in a cave until things start to feel uncomplicated again? I think probably, yes. I don’t think I am very good company while I am distracted because my brain is occupied with those flashbacks of feeling flesh removed; other inner turmoils of the moment. I would remain in the cave looking after myself, all the time, pipes are calling.
It doesn’t feel right to fob something off most of the time.
At the events I’ve felt compelled to attend I fear I’ve been distracted. With low thresholds of tolerance for anything I’ve some recollection of growling like a bear away from his cave. It only hurts when I laugh, unless I yawn. It hurts when I yawn. I can’t really yawn anymore. It doesn’t mean I’m not yawning inside. I’m making myself yawn inside just thinking about it. Don’t laugh. If you laugh I’ll laugh. I get distracted when I laugh.
I think I am best kept away from people as much as possible while I’m distracted. Grumpy, self-conscious about unintentionally dribbling all the time; watch me eat!
Mother’s eightieth birthday; brother, sister and I made a day of it, food, kids, great-grand-kids, two family dogs. Obviously I was licked on the mouth by a dog. As if there were any uncertainty I’d spend time in amongst all of this and not be licked directly on the scar on my face? If only I wasn’t too distracted to see the logic in what I was doing to myself, consequences such as having my scar re-opened for inspection today may never have occurred. That’s distraction for you. Too distracted to see reason. Too distracted to see logic. Too distracted to see three inches of tongue slap you on the back of your throat in a tail wagging frenzy.
I want to eat certain things that I simply cannot eat without it becoming a very unattractive incident to witness; I have taken to hiding behind a napkin held up in front of my face. This arrangement involves very close monitoring of the food insertion process, so an incoming Australian Shepherd jiggling it’s tailless butt doesn’t read on the radar, sad to say.
I am fully aware of how socially awkward holding a napkin up to my face makes me look, but believe me I’m sparing you the indignity of watching me perform the car crash of sloshing food around and unintentionally dribbling lumps of it out, back into the wilds from whence it came.
My skin; you have to be in it to kin it.
What is there to do while you’re healing besides wait for the next dreaded appointment that should not be ignored? Looking at things is good and of course I enjoy reading and tweeting. I have looked at a lot of things; one is the product of the very well established BBC and it’s more or less about the seasons in Great Britain. The title is ‘Wild Kingdom: The Great British Year’ part of the BBC Earth collection.
I mention it because it depicts the seasonal change over a year. Very beautifully done. Something fresh, that resonates for me, several small scenes of time-lapse over urban environs. I may have missed this in other BBC Earth shows I do not know, but I certainly noticed it here. I like it, because it draws the mind to the precarious balance between the natural environment and the built environment which does need to be in frame. Here in Australia the seasons are not so simple. I remember them being more defined when I was a child but, is that only the freshness of demonstrating understanding by identifying the seasons so enthusiastically in childhood? In this day and age it really does feel like the weather has changed; does every aging population make the same claim? Are we far from the time folk are saying, “It was completely winter this afternoon but very spring right now,” I wonder?
Will descriptions of the seasons become nonsensical and out dated?
Distraction is what makes the world go around. The other documentary I have noticed is ‘The Talented Mr Digby’. A friend of mine asked me if I would spread the word about ‘The Talented Mr Digby’ on line because they are trying to crowd fund the completion of it and getting the news out there could help. I had a look at the campaign and I immediately fell in love with it. Three different friends with an intellectual disability are attempting to become more independent in their lives by creating work in the arts.
The way crowd funding works, anyone can make a donation, and if you make certain donations you get a copy of the actual documentary. You can donate thirty Australian dollars and get a copy of the film which seems pretty good, but if you can only afford to donate five dollars you still contribute to the completion of the film. They only have so many days to reach their target. I think it is all over soon, early December some time..
I tweeted information about the crowd funding campaign around, I’m mentioning it here. Several other people tweeted about it for me, so the message went out to just over half a million people, but on twitter I wonder how many people make the call there and then?
Not so many I imagine, yet in among all of those I hope a few have followed the link and read about the project. I hope they have decided to make a donation after watching the trailers of the film and looking at ‘The Talented Mr Digby’.
I mentioned I like tweeting so I think I will display some of my tweets for you to enjoy. I’m looking for sponsorship like the next artist, gainful employment would be good. I’m a very loyal individual even when I’m distracted I know where the light switch is.