Tough Realizations (Part I)

What felt like a whirlpool inside a sinkhole around this time last week, is finally looking like just a simple crater (minus the suction) now. For the past month or so, I have not been able to fully shake off a flare. With fewer hours spent at work or recreation, and more resting on my heating blanket in bed, I feel like I am starting to get this down to somewhat manageable levels. My doctor and I are also working on new medication to see if that can help with the daily pain and fatigue management. The upshot of all of this has been a lot of soul-searching, a healthy helping of frustration and some unavoidable, tough realizations about the way forward.

PeekingThrough_signed_framed
“Pushing Through” – crocus flowers pushing through the snow in spring (digital, “oil on canvas” finish)

Until last year, I had some hopes of being able to graduate and move on to an academic postdoctoral training job. I had the condition enough under control to be a reasonable (though less-than-ideal) postdoc for few years to gain the training I would need to eventually move on to a more cushy, permanent job. But I rapidly realized that those dreams were castles built in air, for two reasons:

(1) My body decided even coming close to that kind of workload is a no-go.

(2) “Reasonable” postdoc jobs are practically impossible to find. The boss wants a publication-machine, not a person with a life. Add a chronic illness to that? Unthinkable!

Which brings me to the tough realization – that unless a fairy-godmother steps out of a pumpkin for me, I am probably going to have to take a real break after graduating and be out of “real” work; or (what feels like a complete non-option), take on a postdoc job that might be the (figurative) death of me.

In case you were wondering what I mean by “real” work, you are in good company. I have been giving that a lot of thought lately too, and may be topic for a future post in itself.

I feel like some part of me knew all along that it would come to this, but I needed the latest flare to remind me to quit kidding around. I spent the entire last year coming up with every reason for why I cannot be out of a job – everything ranging from financial, to emotional, to career potential and innate ambition. But all of that has come to nothing. I realized that the time is here and now for my husband and I to start revising our budget to account for the absence of my paycheck. And I am not looking forward to the pain that changing health insurance plans will inevitably be!

What I do know for sure is that it would be utter stupidity now to ignore the gut-punch that my body has just dealt me. (Talk about tough love!) And that I need to prioritize my health in a very real way – not in the kind of tangential way I had been doing before. I know things are going to be financially tight for a while, but I am hoping that taking a temporary break will help me get back to a different kind of work later on. Otherwise, I am afraid I might crash for good at some point in the (probably not-too-distant) future and never be able to work at all, and then finances will be tight forever!

For now, I am trying to focus on pushing through one day at a time. I try to keep my chin up that this might be the beginning of a new trajectory that might lead on to a fruitful new journey. I am not one who believes in regrets. I believe that every path we choose at a fork leads us down a different probability. And each of those probabilities will have its own ups and downs, and none will be perfect. So take your pick and let life lead you on!

Love,

Fibronacci

Advertisements

If I Had One Wish . . .

. . . I would wish for perspective. It is so hard to gain and so easy to lose, especially in difficult times.

Over the course of the past year, I had been able to slowly piece back together some of the shreds of my old hopes and dreams – only to feel like they are now being shattered all over again. And the only thing that feels worse than losing your life, is thinking you have it back and then losing it again.

Featured image: Contemplating the Darkness (12X16, oil on canvas)

91_Contemplating the Darkness
What do you think he is wishing for?

I don’t think I had ever quite fully appreciated how much my FM symptoms had improved over the last year or so. With medication, reduced work load, regular exercises and prioritizing rest, I was able to attain some level of normalcy. It was a new normal, but it was a normal. And for the most part, I was feeling better.

In some ways, I was really thinking that I had this thing under control . . . that I was ready to move on to a full-time research intensive job – something that had seemed unthinkable to me just a couple of years back. I knew I could not stay in that high-stress environment forever, but thought I could manage the less-than-ideal position as a temporary stepping stone to something better. I was finally starting to plan for my future again.

But as the work load quickly ramped up this semester, in preparation for graduation, all hell quickly broke loose. What started as a mild flare is now feeling like a full-blown relapse. The bad weather spell we seem to be in is not helping either. And yes it has been stressful. But if it is just the weather or the stress, I am reacting to them far worse than I have in a while.

The pain levels have risen sharply, becoming more widespread, and staying that way most days even with pain medication. The stabbing pains in my chest, diaphragm and back have made breathing a laborious affair. Talking can take much effort, and sneezing, hiccuping or coughing is making me cry out in pain. The fatigue can feel bone-crushing in itself at times. But sleep is a precious commodity that is not easy to come by under severe discomfort (especially when you’re a side-sleeper and the nerve pain is raging on that side!) – thus perpetuating a vicious cycle.

I can already feel my mental state suffer, despite my efforts to stay calm and carry on. Despite a conscious effort to be friendly and social, I am feeling more moody, less patient, and snapping more easily than I would like. I am genuinely afraid that I am more or less back to square one in my fibro journey. And that it is all my fault for pushing my body too far, as soon as I started feeling a little better.

I feel like I had lulled myself into a false sense of security when I was beginning to hope again. But I am realizing quite acutely that the lifestyle I would need to maintain to continue feeling better is not one conducive to the life of a scientist! Very few grad students, and barely any postdocs, can get away with coming to work around 10-11 AM, working barely 6-8 hours a day, and taking large chunks of time off in the middle of the day for PT/rest. Most work 60-80 hours a week. I am entering a relapse after a couple of months of not even 50!

This was an important lesson for me. I learned that I cannot slow down, feel better, and decide now I can pick up the pace again and all will be well. Fibromyalgia requires a lifelong management scheme. And while I had made some level of peace with that, I was just not prepared for the violence with which my body would react to the idea of temporarily deviating from that plan.

In a weird way, when I was working those ~50h/wk for the month or two, I felt a vague sense of accomplishment. I was trying my best to still squeeze in some rest, and trying to only start work during my “best hours.” So I felt a renewed power, a sense of vigor, from feeling like I may have beat my condition and risen on top of it. I was able to snatch back from it some fragments of my go-getter self that I hated losing the most. But alas, that was not to be. And that feeling of loss for a second time feels like a slap in the face. Like I have been put back in my place.

At a time like this, I keep reminding myself that this current low is not going to be forever. I can still plan for other things in my life. I have changed plans before and I can change them again. There is a lot of things I can do, and this one setback is not the end of the world. This closed door may even open new windows. In other words, I am striving to remind myself to not lose perspective. Yet, that is the one thing that is gained with so much difficulty . . . and yet lost so easily!

Love,

Fibronacci