However you cut it, living with pain is not fun. For those of you who have been dealing with chronic pain for years or even a lifetime, my sympathies. If you have never experienced chronic pain, read on, life turns on a dime at any age. At seventy-four I am new to the game and surprised by it.
Life drawing class provides a lovely distraction.
I’ve learned that pain medication is a god-sent but a double edged sword. Even thinking about it makes me want to sleep (or cry.)
Medication handles the pain so I can exercise, walk or be halfway human. I have to be careful however because it can also eats holes in my stomach.
Models choose some interesting props.
So if you are waiting patiently for the doctor’s pronouncement, drum roll please…HIP REPLACEMENT. Yes the old hip is in pieces and barely able to keep me upright. An appointment has been made for yet another opinion and hopefully to schedule surgery, April 23 in Austin. Finally time to take advantage of all that health insurance I worked so hard for.
I added color later.
Until then, the meds keep it tolerable, as does my artwork. Carry on.
DOS TORTAS
My gastroenterologist has declared that my stomach pain is due to anxiety. And now I understand.
Take a peak this week into the lives of retired lesbians living in the jungle of southeast Mexico.
Lovely sunrise view from our roof.Full moon and lunar eclipse.
It’s been a bustling week which included an early morning lunar eclipse, a visit from our friend Michelle, and annual doctors’ check-ups (ortho, gastro, dermo and pulmo). Getting old is a full time job.
Stella loves Auntie Michelle
Michelle adds sparkle. She is an avid bird watcher, lovely conversationalist and pitches in with Mom, the dogs and household tasks. No drama just life divided by three instead of two.
Identified by our bird App this week on the roof.Lots of colorful visitors.
One doctor’s visit was particularly helpful, a second opinion on my leg. I went for a scan and will return on Monday to come up with a plan. He said I should not be in this much pain a year and a half later. I left hopeful.
Hopefully there is more bone growth since this last xray in December.
Unfortunately Michelle has returned home but the mental health break she gave us provided respite and a vow to take better care of ourselves, as we all need to do.
Celebrating my birthday is not optional for me. Since I am not a big fan of the usual fawning, gift buying and everything that goes with it, I make a plan for what works for ME. This year I bought tickets to see Shakira in Merida, Yucatán. My wife played a supporting role so I didn’t have to worry about the details. We had a blast, learned a lot and were not awakened by dogs at six am.
Returning home to Bacalar, I found myself exhausted, (it’s amazing how vacations can be so tiring) with little motivation for anything, especially exercise. I used every excuse under the sun to deflect, sidetrack and put off. However, my education and lifelong interest as a Health Educator means I knew better. Time to do better.
My triathlon days. If only I had that energy today.
Back in the day, when counseling was my paid gig, I was a broken record. “Walk! Just walk, 15 minutes. Put on “X” on the calendar. Increase frequency, then increase time. Keep track, you can do it!”
People’s excuses were consistent, no time and I don’t like exercise. But leading the pack was, EXERCISE HURTS. My pat answer was, “it hurts if you do and it hurts if you don’t”.
And now I find myself in the, but it hurts camp. Pain can be a good motivator but so can lying in bed.
This week, I came across a clip on my YouTube channel from a trainer I used to follow during Covid quarantine, many moons ago.
the adventures of dos tortas 
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