So, here I am. Awake with throbbing pain in my toe (of all places). My one toe has become affected like all my fingers. It throbs and it's dying from the tip because circulation is not getting there. Moving it against the covers - Ouch. I never had this on a toe before. This is new. Is it because there's nothing left of my fingertips.
My fngers are so heavy typing this. I am embarrassed (?) by this. I type slowly and deliberately; uncertain if I can share this. I hate this.
I use this stuff called Super PAV on it. It seems to take the throbbing down quite a bit and it is used for all skin ailments and with burns it is very good. I put it on my dogs' ticks to suffocate the ticks. I put it on any skin irritation. It is tree resin, olive oil and petroleum jelly.
Over the years, I have tried many things like castor oil, all kinds of hand creams, paraffin wax. Emu Oil for everyday and PAV on ulcerations seem to work best for me. I never go anywhere without it. My dogs love the taste of the Emu Oil and whenever I pull it out - they are right there waiting for their share. It has good Omega 3's in it. They make Omega 3 vitamins from it.
But, back to the pain that woke me.
I get out of bed, let the dogs go out - they see a mouse in the landscaping of the pond. I don't want to go out to get them because its so cold out. I find myself getting angry and then, of course, I stub my hurt toe. I curse, I feel frustation; I feel defeated and here I sit.
I don't want this to be my story. I need to really work on and see why acceptance of this is such a negative for me. IT IS MY STORY. Something is telling me it's okay to finally own it. Owning it may just set me free.
People, over the years, have told me I am so brave. I never figured it as brave; I figured it as no other choice than keep on fighting to find an answer. I totally believe there is an answer for me. Does acceptance have to come first? Is acceptance the answer. I could pretend to accept it and see if that can lead me any closer to allowing what is to be and not feeling shame and guilt because (yes I'm going here) because my mom was unable to deal with my illness at such a young age. I was told I shouldn't need drugs; I should be able to deal with this on my own. I went to doctor's appts. on my own after the first initial family doctor appt. at 18. The doctor was completely baffled about why my hands turned so purple and why they hurt me.
Raynauds Phenomenom and Scleroderma were not words anyone knew back then. For years, I taught many doctors about it. Not for about 3 or 4 years, did what I had started to have a name. No knowm cause, no known cure. For years (and maybe even still a part of me today), I believed that because I was told to check 'No' on all the boxes asked by a doctor for diabetes, heart disease, cancer, etc; I thought I created my own disease cause I was told I didn't have anything else, nor did my family. I know now how impossible that was. Most families have a little something something that they are more susceptible to - don't they.
One alternate healthcare practitioner came up with that I stopped reaching out as a child and this was my body's response to that. Rang true for me to a degree for sure. I didn't want to cause my mom any more pain than she was already dealing with by having a husband who ran out on her and left her with three kids and debt. I just kept quiet about my needs as to not stir anymore pain up for her. When I think of Little Me back then, I picture me in a corner, quiet and still. I don't know if I was in the corner at all literally, I do know I spent time in my closet though just to get away.
My mom was a neat freak controller and when she did find professional work; we were alone in her house after school til she came home. Well no matter how much I vaccumed and straightened the pillows and got dinner started; she'd come home and rant and rave for 1/2 hour every single day until she vacuumed, fluffed the pillows - got her house in the proper order. (this is when I'd exit to my closet or out back) Once she was done and content, she'd always apologize and be her loving self again. I think this was her way of feeling in control of something since her life was tumbling down around her and she needed to stay afloat for her kids. Her strength and will and love was the strongest thing I have ever seen. I know she did the best she could with what she knew at the time and she scared/confused me more than I knew what to do with. I love her dearly. She has passed on now 6 years ago.
I'd love to know how a toe in great pain; so much so it wakes me up from a deep sleep - has led me to the story above. Interesting, if nothing else.
(Just to let you know - this is the middle of the night when I do my deepest thinking.)
(Should I or should I not publish. No holding back, right?)
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