Friday, December 3, 2004
True Story
Some of you may remember the Tibetan Buddhist compassion ring I received earlier this year in late spring (or, maybe, early summer); the ring that is said to contain a "prayer for suffering" but actually contains a mantra meant to evoke compassion. During the three week period when I was popping back and forth between Prescott and the Phoenix Metroplex while my mother was first in the hospital, then in a skilled nursing facility, I lost some weight and the ring became too big for my little, ring and index fingers, too small for my f-fingers but just right for my thumb, so that's the finger (on my left hand) on which I began wearing it. It actually felt best there because I'm not good at wearing jewelry of any kind except earrings. Surprisingly, while I constantly played with it on my other fingers, I left it alone on my thumb. At any rate, whether on thumb or one of my other fingers, I always took it off at night.
Maybe four weeks ago, maybe a little less, when I finally settled into bed I was so tired I forgot to take it off. Just before I went through the final drift into sleep I remembered it was on but I was too tired to take it off. "Maybe I'll have compassionate dreams, leaving it on," I thought, and nodded away.
The next morning I discovered, when I reached for something in the bathroom, that my thumb was painfully out of joint; popping when I tried to crook the top knuckle, extremely painful on the uptake, especially if I tried to move it under my own power. At that time it was also swollen. I removed the ring with some difficulty and haven't replaced it since.
My thumb is no longer swollen but still out of joint. I've learned to use it with as little joint movement as possible, although that's a bitch, as I'm sure you can imagine. I do therapy on it like a nervous habit several times a day, moving it back and forth with my other hand and enduring the pain to move it under its own steam. Still, though, it seems to have hit a plateau. It doesn't keep me from doing anything. I even sawed down the pyracantha canes with my thumb in this condition. It's annoying, though, and doesn't seem to be getting any better. Every other night I forget, in sleep, that I can't move that joint and some unconsciously triggered movement that involves that joint will wake me up yelling, "Ow!".
My mind has played with the curiosity that the thumb to which the compassion ring was consigned is the thumb that is injured. I call it my "compassion crick" and I speculate that the episode contains some sort of lesson about compassion versus flexibility. I haven't decided exactly what that lesson is, yet, but whatever it is it's an indication that nothing escapes irony, not even compassion.
In Today's Breakfast Stats I discuss what her normal stats have been during My Month of Me and how she's continuing to do, in case you're interested.
Later.
Maybe four weeks ago, maybe a little less, when I finally settled into bed I was so tired I forgot to take it off. Just before I went through the final drift into sleep I remembered it was on but I was too tired to take it off. "Maybe I'll have compassionate dreams, leaving it on," I thought, and nodded away.
The next morning I discovered, when I reached for something in the bathroom, that my thumb was painfully out of joint; popping when I tried to crook the top knuckle, extremely painful on the uptake, especially if I tried to move it under my own power. At that time it was also swollen. I removed the ring with some difficulty and haven't replaced it since.
My thumb is no longer swollen but still out of joint. I've learned to use it with as little joint movement as possible, although that's a bitch, as I'm sure you can imagine. I do therapy on it like a nervous habit several times a day, moving it back and forth with my other hand and enduring the pain to move it under its own steam. Still, though, it seems to have hit a plateau. It doesn't keep me from doing anything. I even sawed down the pyracantha canes with my thumb in this condition. It's annoying, though, and doesn't seem to be getting any better. Every other night I forget, in sleep, that I can't move that joint and some unconsciously triggered movement that involves that joint will wake me up yelling, "Ow!".
My mind has played with the curiosity that the thumb to which the compassion ring was consigned is the thumb that is injured. I call it my "compassion crick" and I speculate that the episode contains some sort of lesson about compassion versus flexibility. I haven't decided exactly what that lesson is, yet, but whatever it is it's an indication that nothing escapes irony, not even compassion.
In Today's Breakfast Stats I discuss what her normal stats have been during My Month of Me and how she's continuing to do, in case you're interested.
Later.
