shoulder update.

it's almost been 3 weeks since i injured my shoulder. what started as a possible rotator cuff tear actually is a larbrum, bicep, rotator cuff and a smaller muscle i-can't-remember-the-name-of tear. when i do something, i do it to the fullest extent.

i've made great progress in gaining movement back which thrills me. i'm hoping that with the physio and chiro exercises will keep me from having any surgical repairs in the future. there is still incredible pain, especially if i momentarily forget that i have a shoulder injury and move my arm without caution. it is so much better than the first week so i'm grateful for the pain subsiding and know it won't be long before i can wave like the queen.

i haven't stopped going to the gym, i've just modified my exercises and avoid moving everything from the chest up and keep my arms glued to my side. i'm glad i was given permission to keep going because i knew having to restart once i healed would be awful. getting back up on the treadmill was really stressful, i was worried about falling again but thankfully i didn't.

here's a picture from today of my lovely bruising. it seems to resurface if i use my arm too much. no pain no gain! (gotta love grainy iphone photos).

thanks everyone for the well wishes!

setback.

this would have been week three of going to the gym. my first session was so much harder than i thought. every part of my body was screaming for me to stop, my brain was exhausted from trying to coordinate my limbs and force myself to keep moving. it was awful but wonderful at the same time because i did it. i didn't give up, i didn't say i can't, i survived.

this past monday i had an accident at the gym, i fell or rather rolled off the end of a treadmill. i didn't fall, but as i rolled off i instinctively put my arms out to catch myself. something in my left shoulder or arm popped, the pain was unbelievable. i was crying, half from the pain and half from the shame. really, who falls off a treadmill walking? i knew i was hurt, i thought i had dislocated my shoulder.

the ER doctor i saw thought i had fractured my humerus or something in my shoulder, but the xray showed no breaks and it wasn't dislocated. it appears as though i have a tear in my rotator cuff. it's going to be a long and slow recovery and i have to take a break from the gym. sadly it's my left arm, my dominant side, so there are very few things i can do.

i may just be the most awkward person in the world. i'm thinking of making a t-shirt with this printed on it.

crisis of faith.

this is going to be one of those posts that makes people go huh? it's so far off of my usual bunnies, health, crazy things that happen to me kind of posts, yet i feel compelled to write it.

this past year has been hard, very hard. we've had lots of changes, most i'm not dealing with well. emotionally, physically, mentally, spiritually i'm exhausted. my very first post i listed some of what makes me who i am, but lately i'm feeling directionless. i yearn to know my purpose in life, that this isn't all of what erin could be. is being a wife, daughter, sister, friend, caregiver of creatures great and small really all that i am? if it is, why do i feel like i'm meant for more.

chris and i made the decision years ago not to have children. my struggles with depression and chronic pain made me question my ability to be a good mom. as a kid and into my teens i wanted to be a mother. as an adult, understanding there is a heck of a lot more to having a baby than the unrealistic dreams of a young girl, motherhood seemed unwise. it was an incredibly hard decision, but for us it felt like the right one.

i'm not sure how or where i came across this blog (http://angeleyesadoption.blogspot.ca/) about a young couple in the US that adopted 3 little girls with down syndrome from eastern europe. for the first year or two as i followed their journey, it was nothing more than a heart warming tale of a family who adopted these beautiful girls. somewhere in the past 6 months their story became more and more focused in my mind. i became all too aware of the sadness that is the life for a child with special needs in other parts of this big world, specifically russia. recently there has been press about a canadian family who were in the process of adopting a child from russia, but had their application turned down due to canada's approval of same sex marriage. it made my heart so heavy. i think of all the children waiting for their mommies and daddies to come take them home, but will never know that life due to a technicality. most countries that were partnered for international adoption have now retracted that partnership to those that recognize same sex marriage. these countries already had a ban for adoption to same sex couples. now they won't even entertain the thought of sending their orphans to these countries, in the minute chance something happens to the original adopters, and the child ends up with a gay couple. this isn't about whether or not i agree or disagree with rights or no rights for same sex couples, it's my frustration and sadness for the kids that deserve the right to experience a forever home. now, special needs children are going to live out their lives in institutions, failing to thrive, often malnourished and neglected without the hope for a life with more.
yet with heaviness on my heart, i hear a clear voice telling me to 'love them.' what does this mean? are chris and i being called to adopt a child with special needs? how does one go from making the decision to be child free to a life full of uncertainty? on good days when my pain isn't too bad, i think 'i could do this.' then a bad day comes, and i'm thankful i don't have a tiny life dependent on me to provide for them. how can i be the mom a child needs when i can barely take care of myself? how on earth could we afford the adoption let alone the financial responsibilities for a child with unique needs for the rest of their life? who will take care of them when we are old and gone? i feel selfish thinking this way, but where does faith end and reality begin? thus my crisis of faith.

i know these children are put on my heart for a reason, i just haven't seen or heard the answer yet.

hope.

i look in the mirror and the reflection staring back at me is unsettling. i see a person who is exhausted and worn out, dark circles under my eyes from years of not sleeping properly. i'm swollen and puffy,  the weight gain is a nasty side effect of the medications i'm taking to lessen the physical and mental pain that has ruled my life for far too many years. the fear of increasing my pain by overexerting myself leaves me paralyized, missing out on so many activities i used to enjoy. i hate what pain has done to me but i hate the physical transformation even more.

two weekends ago in a conscious effort to get outside and move, i attempted to get back up on skates. i was looking forward to spending the afternoon with chris, my sister and her fiance doing an activity that was a foundation of my childhood. it's been years since i put on skates, the fear of falling or being pushed and the weeks of pain sure to follow was enough to keep me away. but with the decision to not let pain define who i am, i chose to try. much to my dismay, it was horrifically painful. i barely made it half way around the rink before i was sobbing in pain, i was so frustrated and discouraged. (when i finish composing the posts about my history and just what the heck is wrong with me, i will be able to explain more how my peripheral nervous system is at war with the rest of my body and why things like walking and skating are so painful).

that moment of frustration and discouragement took me from a person who told myself that pain wouldn't define who i am, to actually living a life that will not be defined by pain. from that point on i chose to start being intentional about living a life with joy versus simply surviving. i want to look at myself in the mirror and be proud of my reflection, knowing full well i have to work that much harder to get to my goal considering the effects my medications have on my body.

in my journey to a healthier erin, i am proud to be adding a pretty awesome personal trainer to my group of supporters. as a linebacker for the hamilton ti-cats, marcellus bowman is no stranger to physical fitness. a recent injury, thought to be career ending, gives him a personal understanding of what it's like to live with chronic pain. while i don't wish that kind of life for anyone, knowing that he has overcome a time of discouragement, depression and a grim future, provides a real life example that all things are possible. it was important to me finding a trainer that was willing to work with someone who is going to move much slower than the average client and to help rebuild my diminished muscle memory without causing injury. i need someone to be tough yet encouraging, to teach me and hold me accountable in this new phase of life. i'm thankful that marcellus is willing and excited to work with me.

i'm terrified, anxious and excited to get started but most of all i feel hopeful. hope is a wonderful feeling.

365.

it's been 365 days since we said goodbye.

365 days since i held you as you slipped away from this world to a place with fields of clover, where you can run and jump for joy, a place where you don't have to hurt anymore. where you can eat as many craisins as your little heart wants without getting sick.
it's been a year since i kissed your ear tips for the last time and got to rub your white belly.

one year since my heart broke.

i miss you, the way you were intertwined in every part of my life. i miss your sauciness, the way you'd shake your tail at me when i told you 'no.' the way you'd come running every time you heard the fridge open and beg for treats. i miss your warm little tummy sitting on my feet when i washed dishes or worked on the computer. it feels strange without you always next to me. you loved to 'help' and insisted on seeing what everyone was doing. pulling flyers or papers out of my hand as i was trying to read them. stealing my pens and running away so i'd chase you.
i miss the way you'd somehow know when i was hurting or having a rough day. you'd snuggle longer, smooch me a little more and lay against whatever part was hurting ever so gently.

i find evidence of you everywhere. magazines with little reese nibbles on the corner, notes i've made with parts torn off. i see them and i cry, reminders of how much of a bugger you were. now i treasure them, the silly things that have new found importance.

the last few months with you were hard, but you were so brave. i knew your feet hurt and i tried to make them better, i really did. the only solace i have is knowing you are free from all that now. 

i was told i'd know when it was time to let you go. how does anyone make that decision? how do you decide to say goodbye to something you loved for over 10 years? i still second guess myself, the selfish part of me wanted to keep you here. but i look back at the photos of you near the end and your eyes were so tired, they had lost their shine. i couldn't see it at the time because my grief was so strong, but i know now i made the right decision.

how do i explain or defend the grief i feel? i can't. if i had been told 11 years ago that i would be this empty after the death of my rabbit i would have laughed. surely a pet can't be this important, this life changing, but you were. you weren't just a bunny, you were my joy.

i hope you know how much we love you.

my sweet velveteen rabbit, it's just for a little while. i'll see you again soon on the other side. because heaven will not heaven be, without my bunny there with me.

thank you to my friends and family that have been my support this last year. to jessica, who made sure i wasn't alone the day after we said goodbye. to susan who taught me her excellent vet wrapping skills. lisa, your wealth of knowledge and compassion for small animals is such a blessing in my life, i am so grateful for you. lindsay, thank you for the beautiful necklace in memory of reese. little jaye-bird, the day you spent with us taking photos will be one of my most treasured gifts for as long as i live. i can't ever thank you enough. mom and dad who allowed reese to come home with me that day, i'm a better person because of her. most of all, thank you chris. you held me when i could barely stand, never once (truthfully) making fun of my love for bunnies or dismissing my feelings. to everyone who recognized i was hurting and sent messages to see how i was doing, i love you.

"how lucky i am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard." - winnie the pooh

a decade.

today would have been your 11th birthday.

your last birthday was very special. somewhere deep in my soul i knew our time with you was drawing to a close, your eyes were so tired. we spoiled you good, i'm pretty sure you ate your weight in treats that day. you even humored me by wearing the crown i made you, and put up with me taking way too many photos.

i miss you my sweet girl. i wish you were here celebrating your 11th birthday, ten years wasn't long enough. 

the walk of shame.

today at my usual weekly pain clinic appointment (it'll take a whole separate post to explain that) i, erin engler, was subject to a drug test. oh yes.
when i entered the doctor's office i was handed one of those sterile urine specimen cups in a brown paper bag and given very clear instructions how to use said container. i'm pretty sure my face turned every shade of red in the colour spectrum.
at that precise moment, everyone in the waiting room became very interested in what was going on and watched as i did the walk of shame down the hall to the washroom.

having urinalysis tests done are second nature to my bi-annual blood work, blindly searching for a hint as to what is wrong with me. i'm not embarrassed by routine tests, at this point i've been poked and prodded so much it takes a lot to make me uncomfortable. but being asked to tinkle in a cup for a 'routine' drug test is up there in the realm of 'oh no you di'int!'

i'm choosing to believe it was routine, that the size of my pupils aren't an indicator of secretly consuming illicit substances to numb my pain.

with my luck, there will be a false-positive...