The Land of Fallacy

So now that I've scared the crap out of everyone with my last two posts, perhaps people might understand where I am coming from a little better when I say that I have issues when it comes to dealing with the effects of Kienbock's disease.

Yesterday, I was having company come over to do my hair. When company comes over, I tend to go into panic mode and clean. This stems from living with my parents for 19 years. My mother was a borderline hoarder, and my dad is just a pack rat. He'll say he can use something, and then it disappears for a while into the black hole that is the garage ... only to reappear one oddly random day in use. I feel like when people come to my house, they shouldn't be overwhelmed with all the skeletons in the closet. And, I have a complex about smelling good. Not just me and my body, but my home. This can be difficult with animals and a husband - but believe me when I say it was worse in the military with smelly pro-gear everywhere.

So anyhow, I'm sticking dishes in the dishwasher and since I can't scrub them so well, I let them soak. Then, I wipe down all the counters and fronts of the cabinets - again, as well as I possibly can. Then, I get the broom and pan out from under the sink. Since it's tiny and I have a slip disc in my back, I kneel on the floor to sweep the dust and crumbs into the pan. How many times and with how much emphasis can I say BAD IDEA? I realize as I'm trying to move around on the floor, that this was incredibly stupid of me. I have to scoot around. We've suspected for a long time that I have Kienbock's in my other hand, and I for certain have tendonitis in it. So, I can't use it as my support or leverage. As patient as I may appear most of the time, I panicked. My M.O. in this type of situation is to get really angry with myself. Most people who read this probably haven't been to my home, but all I had was the counter, which I could reach, but wouldn't have been able to pull myself up considering how stressed my left hand and arm were at that moment. On the other side, I had dining chairs. I wanted to cry at how stupid I was being. I managed to stray from breaking the stove and cabinet doors, and made it to a chair that I pulled out and pushed myself from my elbows up with. 

After this, I felt completely ridiculous. What if I was stuck there? Some days are really good and I can push myself up, but other days, like yesterday, I act completely stupid and panic over something silly. No one was home and my phone was nowhere near me. I always think about how much worse it can be. I'm a glass-is-half-empty kind of person. If you don't prepare yourself for the worst, then you won't know how to react. Treat every situation as if it's just the stepping stone to the worst possible situation, and you will be prepared.

this may seem totally counter to what I just told you happened, but once I got off the floor, I imagined having fallen or been in mortal danger, and unable to move myself. This concerns me greatly. It's entirely depressing so I just think about it constantly, unable to let it go. I stress that something one day is bound to happen; my outward actions of scrambling around to find something is what I deal with daily. If I'm driving, and I can't get the wheel to operate exactly how I tell my hands to do it, I freak out and think of the horrible things that will happen one day if I can't get my hands to work. I'm afraid of what I can and can't do. Ultimately, you cannot see me curling up in a ball, helpless inside my head because I know this disease will eventually disable me to the point where I can't help myself - and yes, this statement right there is me overreacting to my predicament. I can't NOT do that. I feel that way. Feelings are feelings, and I've found that no matter what I do, feelings are uncontrollable, but actions and reactions are more easily controlled. I have this extreme paranoia from my borderline personality disorder, and live in the land of fallacies. If one thing tips, they all tip. If I'm mad about one thing, I'm mad about everything.

I can't seem to make sense of anything because of my own obstacles within myself. I accept that I am what I am, and what happens happens, but I reject the control I can exert over situations. I can't even trust myself to do the right things or act the right way. If it's something as simple as being stuck on the floor I'm going to attempt to control it. And, when I feel out of control I panic.

Now that I am sharing more about the real me inside, it might be possible to see what a difficulty it is struggling with having Kienbock's, having depression and a borderline personality and what happens when combinations like this create havoc. If I could, I'd just lay all day in the same spot thinking, crying, and angry.

A Visual Aid

Too many people don't think about the consequences of their current actions on the future of their bodies. An example might be that many people have become diabetic due to poor health and diet choices. An extreme example would be that some of these people will lose toes, feet, maybe even a leg because they did not take care of themselves.

Kienbock's disease is not an easy disease to describe, or to live with. I remember being 8 or 9 when an aunt contracted a staph infection in her leg that also became gangrenous and very dangerous. That, along with other things that occurred to her, put her in a wheelchair for life. That didn't have a whole lot to do with poor health and diet choices, but I remember when she came to live with us. She was not a strong person by any means at that point in her life. She was very angry all the time. She would refuse help, and then cry for help. The simplest things like talking or picking up an object were torture to her. It was embarrassing and depressing for her.

Though my trials are not at all the same as hers, I can sympathize with her stages of grief and control. Over the course of 9 years, I had slowly become more debilitated by the diseased bone in my body. When I think about it today, I can see how rapidly it progressed. In fact, if a doctor had (AHEM) caught it in time, they might have been able to save my bone from trauma of blood supply loss, and the further trauma of collapse and disintegration. You never know when things like this will enter your life, and that the effects they have can be drastic, and thus your emotional response very erratic.

Kienbock's is a disease. Kienbock's is not something curable.

Every day, I alter my body, my movements, and my reactions. Some of the worst things I deal with are rather embarrassing to say the very least. My number one struggle in life with my bad arm is anything bathroom related. I am going to challenge any and all readers now with visual aids. Think about it for a second:
When you sit on the toilet, do you sometimes push yourself back up with the counter or a bar? Do you have to adjust your body to wipe? Do you have to undo your pants? What about pulling them down and pulling them up and re-doing them? Do you have to lift the toilet lid and/or seat or put it down? Do you have to lock a door, open a door, or close a door? Do you wash your hands? Do you use one hand to pump soap into the other? What about wiping your hands off, do you use on major hand to wipe the other off? Do you air dry your hands by shaking the water off? Do you have to use or applicate feminine hygiene products? Do you ever change out the toilet paper roll?

These are all simple, thoughtless actions people utilize when they have to use the toilet. These are all things that give me grief every day. In fact, one of my deepest fears is that one day; someone will have to retrieve me from the bathroom because I can't care for myself. My fear has been realized once, though it wasn't bad and I'll share the story.

The Christmas I've been telling my story from, is when it occurred. It was evening, and my husband and his parents were on the second floor of our home. It was probably dinner time, or we were playing a game. I excused myself to use the restroom. I distinctly remember wearing these blue fleece pajama pants with big black and white snowflakes on them, and a fluffy blue sweatshirt with my arm strapped to the front. I was no longer in a cast, so it was wrapped in thick bandages. I went up the stairs to the bathroom that was the easiest for me to use. I managed to wiggle out of my pajama pants and sat on what I thought was the toilet. To my utter horror, the toilet seat was in the upright position, and I had just plunked into the toilet like it was a pool, my left arm bolt straight out (it was like my antennae for the seat, and still is). German toilet bowls are enormous and have a very thin rim. Water sloshed everywhere. I screamed, and tried to scramble (one handed) out of the toilet and fell over onto the floor almost on top of my broken arm. Needless to say, my husband raced up the stairs to find me trying to get up and pull my pants up (I didn't know if his parents had followed him.) I was crying and almost hysterically livid. To this day, no one will fess up to who left the lid up - something I'm positive I had asked to be a consideration following my surgery.

I completely understand the emotions behind helplessness like my aunt felt. How can a stupid think like a toilet seat mean the end of the world? Now I know. What if my in-laws had followed my husband up the stairs? What if I had broke my other arm, or landed on my broken arm or ripped the wound open? What if I had received a concussion? It made me angry, hurt, scared, defiant, powerless, and sad.

My Kienbock's disease almost certainly occurred because of a pre-condition, but there are millions of people in this world who can make choices about their health and bodies. My message from this is that humbling yourself is not always what will solve problems. Making the effort to rid yourself of destructive behavior will beget better and happier circumstances and memories than falling into a toilet and feeling miserable. If you have the power to change you r situation, what are you waiting for? There are those of us who cannot. The ball is only EVER in your court. Pick it up!