1% More comfortable

Part of accepting my body’s new limits to pain is recognizing that I’ve been contributing to my own discomfort. It’s not fun to admit, but it’s true. In an effort to be “normal” and continue living my life as I expect to, I’ve neglected to put my comfort at the top of my priority list. In fact, it’s been pretty close to the bottom for a long time.

I’ve contributed in many different ways. Some were subtle and resulted in minor aches, while others were blatant and resulted in days of immobility and suffering. On the subtle side, I would push through a yoga pose past the point where my back started to ache or watch a psychological thriller that had me on the edge of my seat all the while ramping up my stress hormones waiting for the crime to be solved.

On the blatant side, I’d let my massage therapist, physiotherapist, or chiropractor abuse my body in ways that left me in more pain than before I arrived. I still do this. I don’t know why, to be honest. I’m going there to get relief from pain, but I let them use more pressure than I want or contort my body in ways I know it doesn’t like. I think part of it is that I’m so afraid of offending the professional. That if I say something, they’ll throw their arms up in the air and tell me I’m being difficult.

I know that it’s not true, but it’s also not an unwarranted fear. I’ve had physiotherapists convince me of a treatment after expressing my fear. “You’ll be fine”, they said. “Trust me. Your back will feel much better after I try to pull it apart.” It did not. I don’t want to have to argue with my health care provider. I don’t want to have to counter argue with them on why I know that my body will not react well to a treatment.

Desperate for relief

I’m also desperate for relief. I will try any treatment at least once if it has a chance of giving me a break from the pain. I’ve even done a tailbone manipulation to try and release some of the pain of my injured tailbone. It involved the practitioner going into my rectum with their finger to try and “tug” the tailbone back into proper alignment. Thankfully it did not hurt, but it also did not work for me.

The other part of my inability to speak up during treatment is this ingrained idea that if I don’t feel pain, then I’m not getting any benefit. My pain doesn’t have a specific source, so it’s hard to point to when seeking relief. It feels deep in my tissues. I’m recognizing now that the pain I’m feeling is from constantly guarding, creating immense tension all over my body. Prior to this knowledge I just wanted the masseuse to go as deep as possible. Getting a masseuse with weak pressure felt like I was cheated.

I don’t want to relax, I want to hurt! Get in there and get it out!

With the help of my research and my counsellors, I’m coming to acknowledge that I’m the authority on my health and well being. I am the expert on the subject of my body and it’s limits. I’m also learning better ways to advocate for myself while getting treatment, though I still have a ways to go. Recently I went for a massage that left me bruised even after asking the masseuse to use lighter pressure. I couldn’t find the courage during the treatment to reiterate my needs so I told myself “it will be over soon” and cursed, then forgave, myself for my cowardice later.

Reassessing the home

While I work up my courage to be a better advocate during treatments, I am happy to report I’m doing much better at home. Much to my husband’s dismay, I am a problem solver. I also love to tinker. This results in many small and large changes throughout the house to: 1. make my home as warm and inviting as possible, and 2. add comforts to help reduce strain on my body.

He’s always very supportive, especially when I start the task before informing him of my vision. It’s not that he doesn’t want me to be comfortable, it’s simply that he is not as into home renovation or decoration as I am. He’s the type that when he moves into a space he places the furniture to his liking and never moves them again. I am the complete opposite. Constantly assessing a space looking for the ultimate harmony.

Since coming to terms with my new limitations, I’ve turned my attention to reassessing the home for ways to improve my comforts. My counsellor introduced me to this concept of “1% more comfortable”. They encouraged me to find ways to improve my comfort by as little as 1% throughout my day.

The following sections are a few ways that I’ve moved comfort higher up my priority list. They include renovations to the home, comforts to bring with me out of the house, and behavioural changes for in and out of the home. I plan to expand on many of these in future articles.

Renos for comfort

Here’s some of the minor renovations I’ve done (with help from my husband) to make myself 1% more comfortable in the house:

• Replacing the wand showerhead in my shower with a magnetic one. I have a hard time reaching up with my arms and going on my tip toe on my right ankle. The previous one required that I stand on tip toe and pull up on the wand to get it out of it’s holster causing aches in my neck and much cursing.
• Rearranging my closet racks to match my height and reach. When we moved into our new home, there were ClosetMaid racks already installed in all the closets (saweet!). The issue was that whoever installed them must have been 7ft tall because I had to stand on tip toe and reach over my head each time I wanted to get dressed or put away the laundry. I began dreading both activities. After ripping them out and reinstalling them at a reasonable height, I now find great pleasure in getting dressed in the mornings.
• Ripping out the laundry room and starting from (mostly) scratch. The people who used to live in our home were handy. Though, not thorough. There are a lot of handmade things in the house that “sort of” work. One of those is the laundry room sink. The entire laundry room was one that we wanted to redo the moment we bought the house, but it was fully functional so it wasn’t a priority. Until we started using the sink regularly. The previous owners built an 8 inch deep counter surrounding the plastic sink. The sink was already 23 inches deep, so adding another 8 inches made for a painful reach for the tap. So, out it comes! We’ve ripped out the sink, also discovering some terrifying handy plumbing in the process, and are replacing it with a simple metal sink with a thin frame so I can get nice and close.
• Moving items from lower shelves. Bending down is also very difficult for me (it’s starting to sound like I’m a stiff board). We have lots of shelving space in our home, some of which are only half full. After living in the home for a year, we’ve noticed how we use certain areas of the kitchen and which items we use the most of. I’ve moved items that I use a lot out of the lower shelves that have me bending and reaching to mid level shelves that are easier to access. So simple, so obvious, but still effective and worth noting.
• Getting rid of dog beds. We love our dogs, sometimes too much. They had four Costco size round beds until recently. Two in our bedroom for sleep, and two downstairs in the TV room for lounging time. Round beds are challenging to tuck into a corner. With our current furniture, it’s hard to walk around the beds without half stepping on them, a constant threat to my weak ankle. My first instinct was to get rid of our chunky recliners to replace them with individual ones that are easier to arrange in the room. A (much) less expensive option was to replace the circle beds with rectangular ones so I could actually tuck them into corners. I found a buyer for two of the beds before I could find replacements and quickly realized that my dogs are spoiled. They simply pass out on the carpet now and everyone, except my spoiled dogs, is happier for it.

Comforts on the go

Here are some changes I’ve made to how I approach leaving the house:

• Packing a lumbar travel pillow. I now carry around with me a pink lumbar pillow anytime I know I’ll be sitting for extended periods of time in unfamiliar locations: café, doctors office, library, etc. An example of this can be seen by anyone who might be watching me in the café I’m sitting in as I write this article. It has made a world of difference, giving me space to feel more joy on my outings.
• Bringing the cane. But will I need it though? Famous last words each time I’ve left the cane behind. Yes, the answer is yes. Even if I don’t end up using it, the times that I’ve really needed it and it was there were always worth the effort and somewhat awkwardness of bringing it. Not only does it help alleviate the limp, which has so many cascading effects on my hips and spine, it gives me confidence in my walk by knowing that I will have help if needed.
• Making a list. The list helps in two ways. First, it helps me think about what I am heading out to do and often helps me see that I’m trying to do too much in a day. If my list includes three or more stops, I take the time to consider whether the extra stops are worth it or if I can delegate to my husband or to myself another day. Second, the list helps me plan my route and times. My cognitive function isn’t always great and I’ve noticed several instances where I can’t recall certain details like the location of a store or how to get there. My list gets my brain to compile the information fresh so that it’s easier to recall when I need it. (Note that I am also aware of when I’ve lost too much function to get behind the wheel at all. That’s part of the planning as well).

Modifying behaviour

These are changes I’ve been making related to behaviours or routines. Some things I’ve added and some I’ve done away with.

• Napping. I started using naps as a recharge tool when I started to crash midday. I’m learning to use them instead, or rather primarily, as a preventative tool. After telling my counsellor that I noticed I have better energy stores in the morning, they casually asked: “So why not take a nap after morning?” As someone who normally regards naps as a red flag that I am not well, that questioned initially took me off guard. “That’s an option!?” Sometimes I don’t actually fall asleep, but the rest that comes from shutting down for however long my body chooses, is definitely welcome.
• Nesting. Sort of in conjunction with napping, but also can be done on it’s own while awake. I’m finding greater and greater interest in pillows and blankets. I always thought of them as mostly decoration, but they’re so much more than that! My pillows get abused in the best way possible. I use them to prop my head, lift my book higher for me while I’m sitting, under my knees to ease hypertension when I want to put my feet up. I’ve found ways of wrapping myself into my blankets that take the weight off my shoulders and neck, like a sling. Finally, I use my heat pad while in my recliner to both prevent tension after doing something physical and as relief if I pushed a little too far.
• Freeing my breasts. I’ve never really enjoyed wearing bras, opting for the wireless or cloth bras rather than the push-up wired torture devices that are so common place. A few years ago, I finally did myself some justice and was fitted properly at a local bra shop. I was treated like royalty while the staff brought me dozens of bras until I found the perfect fit. Even with my new, comfortable bras, my pain reached a point where any sensation was an irritation. The pandemic gave me some freedom to do away with bras and I haven’t looked back. It’s OK, my nipples are not a threat to you, get used to it. Also, me choosing not to wear a bra does not mean I never want to wear a bra. With certain outfits, a well fitted bra just gives that extra oomph that makes one feel powerful and sexy.
• Putting an end to hair removal. Hair removal sucks. And I truly don’t understand why it’s considered essential and normal. Why am I ripping my hair out of my body? Who is this for? I decided some years ago that I was done adding more pain to my already painful life. Shaving, waxing, creaming, all done. Legs, face, armpits, and groin, no more. I’m free!!! And guess what? I’m still sexy and my legs don’t itch. I’m not here to create a revolution to end the war on hair. Though I do feel that something so personal as hair, regardless of where it is on your body, should be an individual choice. From my experience, our culture makes it feel like a requirement and if you don’t remove your hair, you are weird and gross. I’ll clarify for those that are contorting their faces in disgust that I’m not reverting to a wild animal. I’m still a classy gal who owns a trimmer.

I know there’s so much more, but this article is getting long so I’ll end it there.

For those that are still with me, I’d love to hear some of the ways you make yourself “1% more comfortable”. Share your ideas in the comments section below.