Don't Worry Be Happy?

When I was around 10 years old, I recall rushing home from school to announce that I had achieved the highest mark in my class. This was nothing new for me, as I typically scored within the the top 3 throughout my elementary school "career." But, nevertheless, I was excited and pretty proud of my accomplishment. My dad made a comment that smacked me right in my chubby little 10 year old cheeks. He said, "You know, someday when you go to University, you won't be the smartest person in the class anymore. But it will be okay." To be fair, my dad is a realist, and I don't think that he was trying to rain on my parade, but merely preparing me for the real world. 

This startling revelation threw me for a loop! It kept me up at night. I studied harder, hoping that this surely would never transpire. It really upset me! I pictured myself at the University of Nova Scotia (that's where I intended to go, despite the fact that that particular University does not exist. I found out my later that it was called Dalhousie), sitting at my desk, defeated, as students all around me raised their hand, responding to questions that I could not answer. This worry consumed my little brain for years. 

You will not be shocked to learn that I developed an ulcer at age 12! 

Why are they dressing me like this? Have I been enrolled in the Navy?? 

I was, and still am, a worrier.  My worries have always been wound into a tight little ball, knotted, and frayed, sitting stagnant in the pit of my stomach. 

Last we spoke, I explained that my Osteochondritis Dessicans is no longer treatable. As incredible as my cartilage specialist has been over the past 8 years, I basically received a "Dear John" email, wishing me luck on my "journey." Although I've been fortunate enough to suffer through very few hurtful break-ups throughout my life, this one stung a little....like could we at least say proper goodbyes over zoom and coffee? I then met with the Orthopaedic Team in Cayman to discuss the next step, and they shrugged their shoulders and immediately passed me on to the best knee replacement guy on island. Here's the plot twist...are you ready for it? The island's knee replacement extraordinaire is the same guy who referred to me as a "lost cause" eight years ago. Ugh. I'm currently on his very long waitlist, brainstorming ways to repair our relationship before he chops my knees apart. 

So, you know, I got some worries. Don't we all?

But I'm an overachieving proactive kind of person, so I decided to "science" the worries out of me. 

I follow a well-balanced diet, although I don't deprive myself. 

I continue to remain dedicated to physiotherapy and exercise. We are now calling therapy "prehab." Sure. Let's will go with that....sounds sporty, and Yes, I am STILL on the crutch. It's been 8 consecutive months for anyone who is counting. 

I meditate regularly. Often on a beach as waves gently lap on the shore. Like how much better can meditating get???

I am very conservative with the pain meds and follow a pain plan created by my Pain Specialist.

I attend every acupuncture, massage, and chiro appointment that I can possibly fit into my schedule.

I spend time laughing and joking with colleagues and friends, and continue to attend social events when the pain is under control. 

I religiously follow all of the recommendations from my pain psychologist. 

I spend hours watching cute puppy and kitten videos on You Tube. 

Dude. I get an "A" for effort in this "don't worry be happy" course that I've contrived! I'm the Valedictorian!

I may be able to hide the worry by pushing it down below the surface, but my body knows, and is seriously revolting against my efforts. 

In the last month, I developed an "immune response" in my eye that resulted in an angry pink eyeball. The Optometrist informed me that it could be a result of increased cortisol (stress hormones) in my body. My worries are literally seeping from my eyeballs. Yep, sounds about right. My blood pressure is equivalent to that of a 85 year old obese diabetic alcoholic smoker (note: telling an anxious patient to take deep breaths and calm down to lower blood pressure is not helpful!), and I've been experiencing terrible nightmares that awaken me in the throes of a panic attack. What the actual hell? 

All the books tell you to create a safe and comforting environment to sleep in. You guys!!!! I spray my luxurious satin pillow with a soothing lavender scent, turn on my sound machine to calming white noise, and gently cover myself with a fluffy white cover comprised of the softest bamboo leaves and baby hair (jokes)...I even have a freaking cooling system that maintains a comfortable 68 degree mattress to prevent overheating! I'm more invested in this safe and comforting sleep environment than you all were in the Amber Heard/Johnny Depp trial!!! I calmly drop my CBD oil under my tongue, curl up next to my purring cat, read a neutral novel without too much suspense or drama, and fall into a cozy slumber...only to awaken 4 hours later, dripping in sweat, struggling to breathe, and attempting to climb under my bed because, in my dream, an intruder has broken into my house with intent to kill me. 

So now I'm stressed out that I can't seem to prevent the stress in my subconscious during sleep, despite the fact that I've actioned every freaking stress-relieving activity on my list. Yes, I am 100% aware of how ridiculous this sounds. 

So...that's where I'm currently at. I've totally come to terms with the fact that I am most definitely NOT the smartest anymore. In fact, don't tell Ev, but I'm pretty sure that he has surpassed me in the "smarts" department. That's cool. Now if I could only convince my body that I do not need to be in fight or flight mode at 4am, that would be perfect. 

We are heading home July 3 and I am soooo ready. Perhaps a change of environment will do me good? I miss my family and friends so much that it hurts almost as bad as my shitty knees. I can't wait to get back to Candle Lake. 

Cheers friends!