I stumbled through the house this morning in search of my left wrist splint that I’ve yet again misplaced. As I dug through the splint cupboard it made me realize that I’ve done it again. I’ve stopped taking responsibility and am again, just letting things happen. It’s spring and I’m hot and tired and irritable and headachy and breathing is a chore on the best days. As a result, I can’t be bothered.
Splints are far from perfect. I have five different wrist splints and none works really well, but they do help. They’re all immobilization splints and so I can’t wear them all the time, but I should make use of them more. I get hot at night and remove the night splints. I get annoyed for not being able to bend my wrist when I use the computer, so I take them off. Ironically, splints to a large extent make me less capable. I make up for instability with flexibility. The problem is that the more I use the additional flexibility, the more damage I do long-term. It’s in my best interest to stop doing that. Splints make me stop and so I don’t like them. They’re uncomfortable, they keep joints in an uncomfortable position, they chafe and rub and make my fingers tingle.
I’ve had a particular difficult couple of months and I would like to think that it’s just the natural ebb-and-flow of chronic illness, but it’s not. I’ve gotten sick and unwell and too tired to make the effort to improve. It seems strange but part of not making the effort is being tired of being sick. I don’t like being stared at. I don’t like asking for help. I don’t like having to say I need to stop because I’m tired. I don’t like going to bed early or napping in the afternoon. I don’t like not signing up for raiding and least of all I don’t like that when I do I spend the last hour crying because my wrist is out and won’t go back in. I find wearing braces, keeping track of medication and trying to live oh so carefully tiring. And so at some point, I stop. Not deliberately or with any thought behind it, I just forget that it matters when it’s hot and I’m dizzy and tired and irritable and can’t be bothered. Not bothering doesn’t seem like a big deal. Until I faint because it’s summer and I had a nosebleed and didn’t bother paying attention to how much blood I was loosing. Stupid EDS that makes bleeding go on forever.
My days feel as if they are filled with nothing much, which means to say too much of my time is gobbled up by either being sick or recovering from being sick or trying to not think about either. It’s easy to just let things happen around me, but that’s not quite the way I want to keep appreciating life. Time to be a little more diligent and responsible? Maybe.