10/21/15. The post where I go back to the future.

10/21/15: a lot has happened since my last post.  Mostly business trips and rehearsals.  I made it through my annual charity musical with no major snafus and spent most of last weekend recuperating. Just in time to start a two-city, eight-day business trip.  The night before I left, I had a mini flare-up that I feared was going to cause a serious disruption to my travel plans, but by the next morning things were much better.  So far, autumn has been unseasonably warm, which is a bummer for my awesome sweater collection, but great news for my foot.  Things change tomorrow, though.  A massive storm front, followed by travel to a city where temperatures are about 40 degrees colder.  Wish me luck.

This week I have been seriously contemplating the future.  Those of you who know me personally know I have a big job.  And it's about to get much bigger.  I've spent the last two days attending training that has brought home to me just how big it is going to be.  Which means some changes in my personal life, one of which is that I am disconnecting from social media.  I know it doesn't sound like a very big deal, but currently it is how I stay connected with friends and family, as well as several RSD/CRPS support groups.  Although frankly, I have been disconnecting from RSD/CRPS support groups slowly over the last few months already.  While the medical advice I have received and my own Internet research have stressed the importance of emotional support, I don't think most of the online groups I've joined have been very helpful to me.  I've been very fortunate so far to be able to live as "normal" a life as possible, and it's hard enough to ignore the little voice in the back of my head telling me things might change in the future without daily reminders from social media.  So it's time to strike out on my own journey and see where it takes me.  

I won't be totally alone, though.  As I've said before, you guys are my support group - my safety plan. I will continue to protect my privacy, and that of my family and friends, as much as possible when posting.  But you know who I am, and I know who you are. And I thank you.  Here's looking to the future...  http://youtu.be/JwL0HZSc2Sc

10/2/15. The post where I don't step on a piece of glass.

10/2/15: since the last time I posted, HAL seems to be on and functioning properly.  I guess I won't know for sure until we play a game of chess, but the malfunction seems to have been an isolated incident.  

While it is obvious that HAL provides significant pain management benefits, it is not a cure, and my life continues to be unbalanced.  One of the most confounding things about RSD is the unpredictability.  You would think pain is pain, but that is not the case. There are infinite variations on pain, and RSD is determined to introduce me to all of them.  In the beginning, each new variation would take my breath away and leave me curled up in a whimpering ball.  But I am becoming a pro. My reaction these days is more like, "Huh. That's interesting. I've never felt that before."  While I continue to walk across the parking lot in my 3-inch heels.

I had an experience like that this morning.  I had just begun my two mile walk when I stepped on something on the sidewalk.  Probably an acorn or a rock.  No big deal.  But a few minutes later, I got a sharp pain in the bottom of my foot, like I had stepped on a piece of glass.  I felt certain that I had not stepped on a piece of glass. And certainly, a piece of glass had not gone through the sole of my tennis shoe.  But still, it was hard to shake the feeling.  And then, my sock started to feel wet.  I know that unusual sweating is also a symptom of RSD.  But it sure felt like I was bleeding.

This isn't my first rodeo, though.  I was not going to stop and check my foot.  I continued the rest of my walk, thinking, "I'm not bleeding. I'm not bleeding."  But I was not entirely convinced.  When I got home, I took off my shoe gingerly and looked at my foot.  And sure enough, I was not bleeding.  My sock was soaked and my foot was beet red, but I was not bleeding and I had not stepped on a piece of glass.  I felt vindicated.

It made me stop and think, though.  What happens some day when I actually do step on a piece of glass? Or break a metatarsal? Or set my foot on fire?  I have no idea.  Guess I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.  In the meantime, I will appreciate my good fortune. And avoid playing chess with HAL.