Mary Oliver knows all

Dogfish

Some kind of relaxed and beautiful thing
kept flickering in with the tide
and looking around.
Black as a fisherman's boot,
with a white belly.

If you asked for a picture I would have to draw a smile
under the perfectly round eyes and above the chin,
which was rough
as a thousand sharpened nails.

And you know
what a smile means,
don't you?

*

I wanted the past to go away, I wanted
to leave it, like another country; I wanted
my life to close, and open
like a hinge, like a wing, like the part of the song
where it falls
down over the rocks: an explosion, a discovery;
I wanted
to hurry into the work of my life; I wanted to know,

whoever I was, I was

alive
for a little while.

*

It was evening, and no longer summer.
Three small fish, I don't know what they were,
huddled in the highest ripples
as it came swimming in again, effortless, the whole body
one gesture, one black sleeve
that could fit easily around
the bodies of three small fish.

*

Also I wanted
to be able to love. And we all know
how that one goes,
don't we?

Slowly

*

the dogfish tore open the soft basins of water.

*

You don't want to hear the story
of my life, and anyway
I don't want to tell it, I want to listen

to the enormous waterfalls of the sun.

And anyway it's the same old story - - -
a few people just trying,
one way or another,
to survive.

Mostly, I want to be kind.
And nobody, of course, is kind,
or mean,
for a simple reason.

And nobody gets out of it, having to
swim through the fires to stay in
this world.

*

And look! look! look! I think those little fish
better wake up and dash themselves away
from the hopeless future that is
bulging toward them.

*

And probably,
if they don't waste time
looking for an easier world,

they can do it.

Mary Oliver

lost

I am sitting in a cafe right now. Directly in front of me, no more than four feet, is an old woman in a wheelchair. Her head is tilted to the side, and she looks so small in the midst of all the whirling customers traveling past. You can see her pain in the lines of her face and small openings of her eyes. Yet she is sitting there with a vibrant red, pink, and orange shirt, crisp white pants, a few strands of pearls, and a diamond bracelet. She is trying so hard to maintain a collected and confident exterior. We locked eyes for a few brief moments and something transpired. We had a mutual understanding and for those few seconds, the rest of the coffee shop did not exist. She revealed her suffering and hopelessness, and I revealed mine. Our exchange was interrupted by her friend sitting down with a small cup of coffee and sandwich. Hands shaking, the old woman reached down to take a bite, and couldn't raise it up to her mouth. Without hesitation, her friend touched her gently on the wrist and brought her arm up so she could eat. They continued this way in rhythm, the friend stopping occasionally to brush the crumbs off the old woman's shirt. It was as if they had been doing things this way always.

I came to this coffee shop first to study for a physics exam, but soon realized it would be fruitless unless I tried to put my frustrations and emotions on internet paper. I had an appointment early Monday morning with a new specialist, but have been unable to process the information because of a heavy exam week. Everything is still pent-up inside, and I just can't bring myself to release. With only two weeks left before summer term, I cannot have any setbacks.

Under direction by my PT, I saw Dr. Magaziner of North Brunswick. I was discharged from PT a few weeks ago because the iontophoresis and laser stim therapy were not working. Dr. Magaziner is well-known for his use of regenerative medicine to fight chronic pain. We went over my case history, which took quite some time, and then he physically examined me to determine where my pain was directly located. We found an incredible amount of trigger points ranging from my hips to my entire pelvic floor. The main muscles in my glutes were by far the worst. He wanted to try prolotherapy with me immediately, and believed that it could really put "a dent" in my pain with 7 or 8 treatments. I asked him where I ranked as far as severeness of cases, and he said I was in the more complex percent because of the many locations my pain stems from. I am rather new to the idea of prolotherapy, so I'll give a quick summary for others who may be considering it.

Prolotherapy involves a series of injections to trigger points that causes tissue inflammation. This inflammation is supposed to trigger your body's natural healing process, by bringing in growth factors to the area to then repair the site. You can read more here:

http://www.dremagaziner.com/treatments-therapies/prolotherapy-prolo/

Dr. Magaziner thinks I will need at least 7 or 8 treatments bilaterally, since my case is so involved, and the injections will take place once a month. He estimates they will take about an hour. We also went over pain levels to the procedure. Since I have so many areas that need to be injected and since I am doing the injections bilaterally instead of one side at a time, I will experience a good amount of pain, for up to 6 days after the procedure. He promised to write me notes for classes that will allow me to stand up, since sitting down will not be an option after injections. After 8 months of so, he then wants to do PRP injections, a step above prolotherapy, to the more severe parts of my body that need healing, specifically hips and groin (sites of all three of my surgeries.)

As I said, it was a lot of information to take in right away. I am excited to start new treatment, but as always, I am approaching with a side of caution. I have been promised relief many times, and right now my pain is worse than ever. And even though I've had much experience in handling pain, I am not looking forward to 8 months of fighting. The first treatment is scheduled in two weeks, and I am anxious about how it will feel and affect me. It's also frustrating that for the next year I will again have to rely on family and friends to take me for the treatments and take care of me when I am home. I am tired of being cared for. I got very emotional watching the old woman in front of me because I can put myself in her shoes. I know how difficult it is to maintain a presentable appearance when you are struggling so much and reluctantly relying on people around you.

The more time that passes by, the more I feel cold, hardened, depressed, and reclusive. I used to be able to talk more about how I feel, but now I am hiding away and ignoring human contact. It's hard to witness so many people advancing in their lives, romantically and professionally. I am even beginning to feel apathetic to other people's struggles because I am so tied to my own. The feeling are not healthy, but I don't really know what the solution is at this point.

If you could but see this rage inside of me
I could shake these stars to dust

I wrote those lines a few weeks ago, but they grow more appropriate daily. I apologize profusely for the lack of email responses. I hope you can see I am just trying to keep myself up right now. However, if you have any experiences with prolotherapy, prp, or other regenerative medicine, please comment to this post. Or if you have any encouraging words, poems, or thoughts, this would also be a good place (and time) for them.

On repeat

Gillian Welch - Hard Times

Green light

Mainly because I got a 98 on my bones practical this past week and found a women's climbing poetry book at the greatest used bookstore ever.

If you are ever in a foul mood, take a trip up to Paramus, NJ to the enormous Barnes and Noble and saunter back to their enormous used book section. Instant pain relief. If you need more of a distraction, continue up route 17 to the sushi cafe in Ho-Ho-Kus. Be sure to blast Beethoven's 9th. I'm pretty sure anything can be fixed by the 4th movement. Then, drive less than 2 miles more to the town of Ridgewood, where there is delicious blueberry and cookies and cream ice cream. And an enchanting park where a little boy triumphantly jumped on a large rock to shout, "HEY EVERYBODY!!!!! I JUST CAUGHT TWO FIREFLIES!!!" Thank you little boy for reminding me about magical moments in life.

I also had a swinging time last weekend (before the ER disaster) at the Jazz Picnic on Governor's Island in NYC. A true Gatsby affair, it's happening again this Aug. 20 and 21st. If you do anything this summer, you must do this. It's a perfect opportunity to dress up, travel back in time, and recreate yourself. Isn't that the beauty of dressing up? You can be anyone. You can have any story.

This week was rather rough because of the several doctor visits to figure out the source of the severe allergy reaction. I still remain a medical mystery. Boy, if I had a nickel...

I start allergy testing and shots in two weeks. Maybe we'll get some answers. My sitting pain also greatly increased this week- I spent a lot of time laying down in bed with ice packs. I had difficulty getting through classes and stood for a lot of the time. In anatomy lab, I stayed after with my teacher to learn more about the pelvic floor muscles, since we're not going over them in class. I'm soaking up all this information because I am certain I will figure this out one day. Piece by piece, I am learning. I know now that my ischium hurts like crazy, (specifically this small process next to the ischial tuberosity that I cannot find a name for anywhere.) I think I am seeing a new specialist in NJ that my PT recommends who does a lot with damaged tissue and imaging.

I remembered this week how important it is to do things you love, especially when you are in a lot of pain and frustrated beyond belief. Go outside and catch some fireflies. When I was watching them last night, glowing in the distance, the 1920's still on my mind, I remembered one of my favorite parts of The Great Gatsby. Somehow I have lost my copy- next trip to the used bookstore must change that. (unless I have some readers with extra copies?) I need to re-read this asap. Luckily you can find anything on the Internet. Does anyone remember his obsession with the light at the end of Daisy's dock? We are first introduced to it in Chapter 1:

"[Gatsby gazed at] a single green light, minute and faraway, that might have been the end of a dock."
As well as the last chapter, last paragraph:

"Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter — to-morrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And one fine morning ——

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."

I find myself staring out at the green light often. It always seems within reach, if I can only cross the lake to get to it.

Beat on everyone.