There are too many good podcasts!

Let me preface this to say, that I'm speaking from my own experience only, and not from any realistic measurement of the internet as a whole.

When I first started listening to podcasts, I listened to what I found. If there was even the remotest bit of interest, I subscribed without question.

After a while, I had to start paring down. I dropped Soccergirl, and Keith and the Girl, and some other ones that really weren't to my taste, and was mightily entertained by "the good ones".

Gradually, the quality has improved, the focus on my own interests has narrowed, and little by little my podcatcher list became filled with high-quality podcasts that gave me what I wanted out of a podcast.

Now, there are too many.

There are so many good podcasts that I don't have time to listen to them all. If I want to add a new one to my list, I have to go through the list I already have, and find one to drop.

It's a painful process. Painful enough that I don't really want to look at new ones, unless they're really promising. I wonder how many other people have reached this stage of podcast complacency.

Contract signed!

Into every life a little light must fall. On monday I signed a contract with Extasy Books, an e-publisher, to publish "Our Robot" on their website.

I'm very happy at the project and inspired to write again (which had been stalled of late).

No movement on the Second Life front, but she's been feeling a lot worse lately. She used to ask to take the car one or two days a week, but she hasn't felt well enough to get out of the house in over a month.

Step one in project SL is a success

Today, I downloaded the Second Life software onto her computer, and made sure it ran. I also got the beginnings of her account started, though she's now at the beginning of the tutorial section and isn't ready to join the main grid... still, progress.

Here's hoping.

Happy Birthday.

Yesterday, Thanksgiving, was my birthday.

I've reached an age where making a big deal out of my birthday is not really welcome. We went out for turkey at Cracker Barrel, and hung out at home. No cake, no presents.

My wife and I had a short but deep conversation about sex last night. Her body just doesn't work right when it comes to sex anymore. She said she has tried masturbating, tried to get the engine running again, but all she gets is sore. No more orgasms. I was nearly in tears by the time she finished.

I asked her whether her imagination still worked... whether she had fantasies, whether she thought about sex. After all... the most important sex organ is the brain. If that works, that's enough for me. I suggested, again, writing stories for each other, or telling stories, or playing on Second Life. She didn't know what Second Life is, I'm hoping she checks it out. Chances are slim but maybe she'll think it's at least silly enough to be fun.

She didnt' say anything definitive. I wouldn't want her to promise anything, if she wasn't ready for it.

We'll see what happens.

A new sexual relationship

So...

The story continues. A new light dawns. We've been going to a marriage therapist, and lots of good stuff has been coming out, and the topic of sex came up.

I mentioned that we kind of have to start over, sexually... that things have changed, and we need to start from the beginning, learning what feels good, what we want, what works for us.

So... monday morning, Columbus day, we're going to have the kids go play, and explore... just explore.

House

We're watching House. It's a TV show.

House says, "So you aren't fulfilled by taking care of him... you get nothing out of it... but NOT taking care of him would make you feel worse."

She didn't say anything.

Imago Therapy

We went to a marriage therapist yesterday. It was the Weekend From Hell that prompted it, but it took a while for it to sink in with her before she agreed to it.

She uses "Imago Therapy" which takes the theory that we pick partners who are like our parents in order to resolve childhood conflicts... and thereby marry the person who is best able to hurt us.

Our first session involved gathering some basic information about our families, and then we immediately started a "mirroring" exercise. One person was the speaker, the other the mirror. The mirror's job was simply to repeat what the first person said.

We started with "What I think frustrates you about me is..."

After going through as many of these as I could think of, she filled in what I had missed with "What frustrates me about you is..."

Then we switched. It was vulnerable and empowering and scary and great.

We have some homework to do before our next session, some groundwork about what we want out of the therapy and what our childhood caregivers were like.

We go back in two weeks. I am very hopeful.

I may have found the secret.

I haven't posted in a while.

I've been corresponding with Ann Regentin, an erotica author who writes about disabled people. I was drawn to open the conversation by an article she wrote called "Plan D: Love in the world of Chronic Illness"

I'm still emailing back and forth, and while she has had many practical suggestions, she said that she didn't have the essential piece of the puzzle. Her partners (an ex-husband and an ex-lover) had never come to terms with her disability, and she didn't know how I could do it.

She set me on the path, however, and I think I may have come to it. I'm not sure, so I'm going to let this percolate, let this set a while, and make sure that I know what I'm talking about.

Then I'll post, I promise.

I should have known

I broke the promise.

I pulled out some porn and masturbated to orgasm tonight. I was a little mad at her, but not THAT mad. I'm not even sure, now, why I did it... I'm ashamed of myself.

I wish there were another adult in this family.

Heck, I wish there was ONE adult in this family.

It was a stupid promise to make in the first place. It was manipulative. I hoped that if I told her it was hers alone, that she'd value it more. Not likely.

::sigh::

I hate my life.

And the rollercoaster swings yet again...

It's always when things look darkest that the best things happen.

No, my wife and I didn't have eight hours of sexual bliss, but I DID find someone on the net whose wisdom strikes very, very close to what I need right now.

Her name is Ann Regentin, and her site is over here. Specifically, what drew me is this article about how she wishes men would relate to her and her disability.

I am going to be paying a great deal of attention to this woman in the future.

My promise

I talked with her a bit, tonight, about a promise I made a few days ago, that I would not have orgasms unless it was with her.

She thought it was kind of silly, impossible to fulfill given that her equipment doesn't work right.

I said that having an orgasm WITH her wasn't the same as having one IN her and she understood better.

I told her that it wouldn't be fair for her to ask it of me, but she wasn't; it's an offering I'm making to her. And she accepted it, and appreciated what it meant to me, to offer it.

My wife is a homophobe.

We had a long discussion yesterday, in the car, about feminism. She said that the feminist movement (such as NOW) had been "taken over by the Lesbians" and as a result was marginalizing itself, because lesbians certainly couldn't represent HER interests.

I tried to point out all the progress that had been made since she was in college but she couldn't hear it.

I explored it a little, and it appears that she had a traumatic experience in college, where she entered her dorm room to discover her roommate and her roommate's partner in flagrante dilecto... and then was invited to join them. She ran.

Since then, any woman who displays particularly butch attributes has been a figure of scorn.

What am I supposed to do?

Okay, I'm back. One word: Fuck.

I'm back.

It didn't go very well. I should have known. The worst part is, it's pretty much all my fault. I set myself up, and knocked myself down.

We arrived on saturday night full of hope and promise. The hot tub was wonderful. We fooled around a little, but we were too tired from the drive for anything, so we dried off and went in. We had a romantic dinner in our room, that I lovingly cooked for my lady wife. It was delicious. We went to bed around eleven, to be ready for the 8am wakeup for the 9am breakfast.

I was still awake at midnight.

I was still awake at 1am.

I was still awake at 2am.

I was still awake at 3am.

Some time between 3:30 and 4am, I fell asleep. I blame it on the novel I brought along - Kushiel's Avatar - I was in the very worst part of it (for those of you who read the book, when Phedre is "Death's Whore") and I'm sure it was disturbing me.

The next day, after breakfast, we retired to our room. We went back to the hot tub, fooled around a bit, and then decided to go out and do touristy stuff. We saw a local gallery, had a late lunch, and got back to the room around 4pm. Back in the hot tub. We started having sex, and I found it particularly unsatisfying... sex underwater sucks. So we dried off and went inside. I had lost my erection, and it just wouldn't come back.

Here I am... my wife is making herself available to me for the first time in however long, we have moved heaven and earth for it... and I come up impotent.

What a fucking joke.

I should have seen it coming. I had hung WAY too many hopes on this weekend.

The rest of the evening didn't go much better. We went out to dinner, came back, fooled around some more... still nothing. I couldn't get more than about a quarter of an erection, and not for more than a minute or two.

Then we started talking about it... and we both said things we really shouldn't have. I can't share what we said here... it wasn't an argument, but there were plenty of tears on both sides.

So we are left, hurting, wondering what happened, and wondering what to do next.

Fuck.

Tomorrow's the day

Okay, so we're getting ready to leave for our honeymoon. I'm hopeful. The new treatments seem to be working, and she understands, now, that I'm not as interested in seeing touristy stuff and more interested in being with her.

I'll be back on tuesday night, or wednesday to let you know what happened.

Well, she went

She went to the folk gathering. Brought the chili. Came back with empty containers. At least the effort wasn't wasted.

I'm still kind of pissed though.

This is one of those nights

Midnight.

"Oh, by the way... I need you to take that hamburger out and boil it for chili. I promised the folk festival that I'd make chili."

"The hamburger is gone. We got three meals out of it this week."

"Oh... then I need you to go to the store."

Fine. So I go to the store. I buy hamburger, and chili powder, and a few other ingredients that she neglected to mention the other two times I went to the store today.

I boil the beef, and start putting the ingredients in the crock pot to cook overnight. She keeps calling over with completely INSANE instructions. Like putting a whole container of chili powder in, and NOT using the beef I just boiled. So I finally just ignore her and put the damn chili together.

And now? "Maybe I shouldn't go."

"You damn well ARE going, after all this!"

Fuck, I hate this disease.

Went to see the shrink today

So we went to see the shrink today. I brought up the crazy IM conversation, and she apologized, but I still don't understand what is going through her head.

She does seem to be committed to getting sexual again, and has started taking an estradiol (estrogen-related hormone) vaginally in order to get ready for the honeymoon weekend.

IM conversation

Okay, so here's a conversation we had over IM today, while I was at work.
*HER*: http://www.webmd.com/content/article/123/115181?src=RSS_PUBLIC
Be sure to read the second page
me: Well shit
I've been trying to tell you that for years
*HER*: I keep telling you, if the actual act wasn't p ainful I'd be after you a lot more
me: What actual act?
Orgasm?
*HER*: that's the appointment tomorrow, btw.
no, intercourse. It's been very painful for several years.
me: I'm not that kind of guy, babe
12:53 PM I don't have to stick it in to have sex
*HER*: I know, but I feel bad... and then I get feeling worse, and there goes the libido.
me: Okay
*HER*: I'm working on it, okay?
me: So what you're saying is that you think I'd rather have no sex at all, than be told I can't have intercourse with you, after doing other stuff?
12:54 PM *HER*: This IS NOT rational.
My apologies.
me: No, it's not.
12:55 PM *HER*: this is MY reaction, not yours, and it doesn't have anything to do with my feelings for you. It's my feelings about myself.
me: That may be but it sure as hell has an impact on me
12:56 PM All this time I thought it was because you just weren't interested because of the drugs and the pain.
*HER*: I also feel in such pain a lot of the time that even if it didn't hurt I wasn't interested, so that's true
12:57 PM me: So wait
*HER*: Both things are true
me: "I keep telling you, if the actual act wasn't painful I'd be after you a lot more " <<< style="font-style: italic;">(note: The psychiatrist)
*HER*: Maybe
1:07 PM depends on the kids, really.
1:09 PM We have a lot of work to do with them, and it's important, too
5 minutes
1:15 PM *HER*: Maybe more important day to day.
me: Whether or not you're having a migraine has a big impact on the kids welfare.
1:16 PM *HER*: It does
me: Whether or not we're having sex has an impact on whether you're migraining
*HER*: possibly
me: possibly
It's at least worth looking into
If I've got a migraine cure behind my teeth I think you'd want to know about it
*HER*: That's what the appointment is for tomorrow.
::nod::
1:17 PM There's stuff that acts as lubricant and possibly estrogen cream to make things easier, less painful
but she'll want to check the plumbing
1:18 PM me: And that's the doctor you're seeing tomorrow?
*HER*: Sure, She does pelvic exams
me: ::running around screaming and banging into walls::
I thought you were going to the neurologist about migraines
1:19 PM *HER*: I did that YESTERDAY, partially
me: I thought that was the EMG
*HER*: but painful sex is common in fibromyalgia.
The doctor was there, so I asked her.
me: Painful /intercourse/
1:20 PM *HER*: Okay, painful intercourse. Sorry
me: Equating those two is one of the things that's hurting us
*HER*: ::nod:: sorry
*ME*, I'm juggling as much as I can
1:21 PM me: I'm sorry.
I'm getting all worked up over this
*HER*: I have to get out of pain, I have to get unfogged, I have to be able to walk, I have to keep house, I have to get back to work...
1:22 PM notice that all of these things are not getting doen.
done
me: They're certainly not all going to get done at the same time


GRAAAAH! What the fuck!? Is this crazy or what???

Percocet, marvelous percocet

Peace in the valley, at last. She's much easier to live with when she's not in agony.

I'm not happy per se, that she's drugged up, but there you go. She has promised to ration her meds better in the future.

Her GP has put her on B12 supplements and thyroid medication; given that B12 and thyroid insufficiencies can cause fatigue, depression, etc. I'm all for both treatments.

We're on track, as far as I can see, to be significantly improved by July.

So... here's hoping.

Pain meds

Okay, she's on her way to the pharmacy to get a new set of pain meds.

Fucker put her through a fifteen minute tirade first.

Welcome to the rollercoaster

She's sleeping on the recliner again.

Appointment with the fucking pain specialist on monday.

Pray for us.

Pain Meds, Part Two

My initial reactions were in error.

The pain has gotten steadily worse, to the point now that she cannot get out of her recliner without a cane, and then can hardly move.

The doctor refuses to talk to her on the phone, return her phone calls or emails. He is not recommending that she come in for a consultation. The only questions he will answer are "No, I won't prescribe more medication today" and "No, I'm not firing you as a patient."

The doctor has not said if or when he will prescribe medication again, he has not said what she is to do about her increasing pain or her increasing disability as a result of it. He's being a complete and total shit. If he has some reason for denying her medication, he has the responsibility, no, the DUTY to tell her what's going on.

She's becoming increasingly irritable, depressed, and desperate. We are on track to completely derail our honeymoon plans. If this is still going on next month, I am going to cancel our reservations; there's no point if she can't climb the stairs to the room.

This is, of course, making me more depressed, anxious, and upset, and the kids are likewise getting into the act. I'm trying to maintain a calm demeanor but it's becoming harder and harder.

I'm back in hell.

Pain Meds

A few days ago, she ran out of pain meds. She's been burning through them faster than they were prescribed. She asked the doctor for more, and she was denied.

So she's been going without.

The first few days were pretty bad, but things have been getting better. She's been getting by with various non-narcotic means, tiger balm, TENS, and good old NSAIDs.

This morning, she said, "Hey, you know, I think my pain is going away."

You know, you can't TELL her that maybe she's taking too much medicine. She immediately launches into a tirade about how much pain she's in... but here we are.

I hope this is a transformative moment.

Still here.

Okay, so... another celibate weekend in the Nobilis house. No news there, right? She threw out her back on friday doing something she didn't need to do, and that was that.

I hate that I'm sometimes suspicious that she's avoiding me, sexually.

In other news, our preparations for the second honeymoon over the July 4 weekend have been continuing, and the B&B we're going to has a private hot tub for us to enjoy. I'm looking forward to it. It's about three hours away, but we're getting someone really good in to watch the kids, so we're not worried.

We really REALLY need this.

"Maybe tomorrow."

I thought we had agreed to make saturday mornings our time together, but evidently not. She's using the excuse that we have a doctor's appointment at eleven to put me off. I don't think that's the real reason, but how does one argue with "no"?

Wow, busy week

This is incredible. Completely out of the blue, Ellie Lumpesse (see the link in the title) posted Bedroom Radio #10. With one of my stories in it, one I wrote for her.

Booyah.

It just barely makes up for the fact that the wife was having trouble feeding herself tonight... she says it's the drugs, but the drugs never did this to her before.

Ain't that always the way it is?

More good news

My, my, good news and bad news just seems to keep coming.

This one is more good news.

Last month, I entered a story contest. It was over at the "Breast Expansion Story Club" (stories of body transformation have always been a personal favorite of mine) and my submission came in second!

Here's the capsule review the judges posted (at http://femaletransformation.blogspot.com/ ) in response to my story:

"2. Nobilis - The Nefarious Plot Of Professor Bolster
Stories told from a female perspective aren’t that uncommon… ones that do it well are quite infrequent but both of those AND adds in a rather unusual early 20th century setting and you’ve already got an interesting mix. The story sits together very well and progresses in a realistic manner, not just that but its got more than enough BE. A unique and memorable story to be sure."

I'm thrilled... in the truest sense of the word.

Aaaaaaahh,,,,

The kids didn't wake us up this morning... we just kind of woke up. Well rested, I asked if she wanted some coffee. She said it would be wonderful.

I went down, made some coffee, warmed up one of her favorite scones in the microwave, got some cookies and some crackers and some cheese. We sat and ate breakfast and listened to "Car Talk". When we had finished eating, I asked her how she was doing, and with the caffeine and food and all, she said she was alright. I asked her for a handjob, and she said yes.

I lay back with a towel over my belly and she got some lube (yeah, we still keep it around) and she started up. It was good... very good. I was right on the brink for ... well, it seemed like forever, but it must have been about ten minutes. Finally, she got frustrated with the lack of "results" (I was perfectly happy the way things were going) and she lubed herself up and started to sit astride. That position's really bad for her knees, though, so I told her to get on her hands and knees, we started fucking doggie-style. Because my legs are rather long, I usually put one knee down, and one up and to the side with my foot on the bed.

It wasn't the best sex I've ever had... but after... how long? End of november. I just checked the list. After that long, I'm certainly not going to complain. It was wonderful, and close, and I couldn't have spent my morning better.

After she had cleaned up and I had had a shower, I offered to reciprocate, because she hadn't had an orgasm, but she demurred, and maybe I'll do that for her tomorrow.

So... better.

We talked about making it a regular saturday morning thing. She was okay with that.

Of course. Every hint of hope must be snuffed out.

This morning, while she was driving me to work, her speech started getting slurred and she started having trouble driving. I was terrified. I tried to get her to pull over, but she refused, said she was fine... while weaving back and forth.

I finally got her to stop, turned around, and took her to the ER. They did a CAT scan.

It turns out that she has minor diffuse brain damage, probably due to diabetes.

More doctor visits. More specialists.

What did she do to deserve this?

Hope springs again

Last night was very hopeful. She came to bed in just her panties, rather than the sweats or flannel nightgown that she ordinarily wears, and while she fell asleep before the spark could ignite, there definitely was a spark there.

So now... we're planning a second honeymoon over the July 4 weekend.

Burn a candle for me, folks.

Another concert tonight.

She's out at another concert tonight. I'm glad she's out having fun, and I hope she comes back in a good mood.

Concert tonight

She went to a concert tonight.

Is it even worth trying? She feels better after concerts, but she's in more pain these days than ever before.

Nevertheless, I must try.

Once more into the breach, dear freinds, once more...

It just keeps getting better.

She accidentally took her morning medication this afternoon, and now she's at the hospital ER. She was slurring her words, dizzy and drowsy.

I'm beginning to think that I can't trust her to handle her own affairs anymore.

So much for that, Two

I sat at the foot of the recliner, and massaged her feet. She wouldn't leave the damn recliner.

I'm going to take that thing out and burn it one of these days.

Taking a battering ram to the walls

Last night she said she felt "shut off," as if it's my fault she retreats to the recliner every night.

Well, fuck that.

Tonight, I'm dragging her out of the recliner, and onto the couch where we can touch each other.

Remember "In the Shadow of Pain"?

... well I didn't.

I listened to "Whispered Pearls" (one of the erotic podcasts I listen to) today and they played it, and it got me thinking...

What is it that I *really* want?

So...

I'm thinking.

A change is coming.

I find my thoughts drawn to the idea that my relationship with my wife has to change. We can't keep going on as we have been.

I am losing hope that she will ever be any healthier than she is now, that we will ever have sex again.

So I have a choice.

One, a life of celibate devotion.
Two, secret affairs, probably via the internet, with an eventual discovery on her part and all the pain and betrayal that entails.
Three, somehow convince her that pursuing discreet, online sexual encounters outside of our marriage doesn't mean I don't love her and doesn't mean I'm going to leave her.
Four, end the relationship.

Options two and four are unacceptable. I refuse.

Option one is where I am now, and is becoming harder and harder to bear.

I can't figure out how to broach option three without causing her even more pain, perhaps more than SHE can bear.

I'm trapped in a cage with three doors, all of which are booby-trapped.

Results of the trip

Good things:
We saw my wife's cousin's baby, which always makes her feel better.
We saw my mother in law, so she won't nag for a few months about visiting.

Bad things:
She pushed herself way too hard, and fell down twice, on one occasion breaking two toes and possibly a bone in her foot, and thus, yet MORE pain.

On the whole, I think we would have been better off staying home.

Apprehensive

We're going on a trip to the MIL's house tonight. The train will take us overnight to get there.

Here's a little hope

She's making noise about getting a membership at the pool without me prodding her.

This, in our world, is progress.

In the Shadow of Pain

I kneel outside the gates.
How long have I waited?

The snow has covered my boots.
It drifts about me like a shroud.
I feel icy needles in my fingers,
Clasped to my chest.
The gates will not open.

Sometimes, sometimes, I see
A ray of light from the tallest tower.
A person, a woman
In silhouette
She is there, waiting for me
The gates will not open.

An evil demon has taken the fortress.
Its name is Pain
And as much as I suffer without,
My love suffers worse within.
The gates will not open.

She screams, sometimes, from the windows.
She calls out my name
And bids me go, abandon my vigil
Or shouts imprecations
That somehow
I had summoned the demon
Pain
That binds her
Or bids me enter, and bathe her wounds.
The gates will not open.

I have been here so long,
I live here now.
This is my home.
In the shadow of Pain.
There are other places I could go.
But I would rather be here
And suffer
Than go somewhere else
And be numb.


This poem is about how I feel right now, tonight. It's not supposed to be about reality or relationships or anything else than just that... how I feel, right now.

I swear, it's like living with a fourteen year old.

"I don't think name-calling is appropriate."

I had to say that to her today, with regard to disciplining the recalcitrant daughter. What kind of fucked-up marital relationship includes things like that? Faugh.

Another brick in the wall

Add another condition to the litany of pain.

Post-traumatic Stress Disorder.

She worked in a mental institution for many years, and saw lots of really nasty shit.

On the way home, she told me the worst of it. I'm still on the edge of tears. I knew she was in pain, but ...

I don't know how she stands it.

No change, no change, no change.

I wonder if I should even bother posting here anymore. Nothing's changing, it's the same old same old every fucking day.

So much for that.

Feeling discouraged tonight. She turned down a backrub. Can't sit still, she says, but she's sitting still in that damn recliner.

::sigh::

Fuck.

Or rather, a total lack thereof.

She came home tense from the drive, took two painkillers, watched TV until they took effect, and then crashed into bed.

Frozen over again lately.

It's probably mostly my fault. I haven't been making myself available for intimacy, really, lately. I've been hanging out online and not with her.

Then again, it's really hard to reach out, when I get no response.

So tonight, she's going to a concert. She really really really likes concerts. They always make her feel good.

So when she comes home, I'm going to put away everything else, and bring her into the bedroom. The kitchen countertops (which she asked me to clean) will be clean, and I will have prepared as much as possible.

Cross your fingers for me.

Woohoo!

The "He Said, She Said" podcast folks have decided to give me five minutes and their voices to perform a weekly audio drama.

I've written the first episode of "It's My Floor" for them, and they put it in show number 41. Too cool! It's an incredible charge to hear my words performed.

Not a lot of news

For the half-dozen of you that read this blog, I'll just put this placeholder in, to say that yes, I'm still here, and no, not much has changed.

Well Spouse Association

I went to my first Well Spouse meeting. I left a little early from work (spending ten hours at the office instead of eleven+) and met some wonderful folks at a library about 45 minutes from home. I got to meet some wonderful people who really understand. I can't describe how wonderful that was. We traded stories and they nodded their heads a lot when I talked about some of the things that had happened.

Then, of course, I got home, after spending more than twelve hours out of the house. I didn't get read the riot act... no, I could deal with it if she were mad at me for leaving. "I just want to tell you that I felt kind of abandoned today. I'm not blaming you, I'm just telling you how I feel. I know that it was important for you to get out of the house."

Our son, it seems, had thrown a major fit, knowing that his mother wouldn't be able to discipline him. He threw things at her and there was a tussle.

From what I hear, she didn't handle the situation well, and the whole mess was as much her fault as his, but really, how can I say that?

Goodbye, Roxicet

She's getting off the roxicet. For those of you who aren't in the pharmaceutical know, roxicet is an opiate painkiller. So that's good news, right?

Yes, in the long term. It's a milestone we've been working towards steadily.

In the short term, we're dealing with withdrawal. Which is an absolute bitch.

And starting tomorrow, I'm going to be working eleven hour days.

This is not going to be fun.

That damned recliner

She slept on the recliner again last night. The injections she had in her spine yesterday were just too painful, and she had taken too much medication to be steady going up the stairs. I wasn't happy with the situation, but I know that it's temporary.

A new procedure

She went to her spine specialist today to get steroids injected into the joint capsules of her lower spine.

This is a new procedure, and we're hoping that it will provide an opportunity for much needed healing.

My valentine's day gift to my love

I wrote and recorded a sonnet for my wife, for Valentine's day. I also submitted it to the Valentine's day edition (episode #37) of the "He Said, She Said" podcast (you can get it at the link in the title) and they included it right at the end, just before the closing music.

Thanks, John and Jodie.

She listened to it just a little while ago, and told me through her tears how much she liked it. I don't think I've ever been able to touch anyone so deeply with a present before.

Oh, my GOD, an INCREDIBLE breakthrough.

I was listening to the Whispered Pearls podcast last night (link in the title) and in passing Michelle mentioned that she would never spend five minutes staring into the eyes of a total stranger... it was far too intimate an experience.

And my jaw hit the desk.

Of course.

We don't have to move. She can take whatever position is comfortable. And since it's not anything we have done in the past (at least, not since we were newlyweds) it's not in a path that would lead to anything more. (she doesn't want to 'make out' because she's worried I'd get worked up and then she'd feel guilty for not going further) It's perfect.

So we did it.

Last night, lying in bed, she and I just lay there and stared into each others eyes. There was a little talk, and a few smiles, but she didn't start giggling (like she thought she would) and I didn't get bored (like I feared I might) and it was a beautiful, intimate connection.

Just what I've been missing.

Michelle... you may not have known it, but you have given me the best Valentine's Day gift I have ever gotten.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

Those little twinges

Ellie Lumpesse (link in the title) mentioned in her blog today that J (one of her lovers) is having trouble with penile chafing... due to having lots of sex.

::sigh::

Why do I torture myself like this?

MRI comes back: Ruptured disks

Well, the MRI came back... she has two ruptured disks in her neck. The problem isn't her back and never has been.

We're going to use traction for short-term relief and chiropractic for long-term correction. Hopefully this will result in some healing.

Two steps backwards, two steps forward

The new drug regime is in place, she has her knee braces, and she's getting those 'trigger point injections'. We're back to where we were before the last crisis. We're sleeping in bed again, she's lucid until about eight, and things are back to "normal". Normal for us, anyways.

Do I feel any relief? Not a lot. It doesn't feel like much of an accomplishment to get back to a place I was in for years. I want progress, dammit!

Lost ground made up

We slept together in our bed last night. It was very nice. In the morning, I tried to be tender and loving with her as much as I could, giving her little nuzzles and kisses as we had our morning showers and all. She wasn't in a mood to go further, however, as she is very inhibited when the kids are awake.

All in all, a good night, and a good morning. I'm hoping we can sleep in our bed tonight, too.

Pain specialist

She went to a pain specialist yesterday. They're going to try "trigger point therapy" where they put injections straight into the muscle knots.

Another tablespoon of hope in the bucket of despair.

Tears of relief

For the past ... I don't know, a long time... I have felt incredibly alone. I have friends on the internet, of course, and people I talk to on the phone, and people at work... but noone I can really confide in face to face.

Dee found a website today. The link's in the title. It's the "Well Spouse Association".

They have a support group about twenty miles from my home, that meets monthly. I've been in contact with their local contact and if I can get there I'm going to meet them on the fourth. I am nearly in tears, I am so relieved that these people are out there...

Tired of sleeping on the recliner

She's tired of sleeping on the recliner, she wants to get back to our bed... which is fine with me.

It'll take some work to get the room ready for her, but I'm willing to do it. We're going to switch sides on the bed, so that she can have the side nearest the bedroom. We might even change the furniture around.

New conclusions, new directions.

The 75mcg Fentanyl patch was too much. It was making her dizzy. The dizziness caused nausea, and also caused the two bad falls she suffered. The falls were what tore up her knee ligaments.

The nausea made her dehydrated. She's been suffering with it for two weeks now.

We only just got it figured out, and got her Fentanyl dosage lowered back to 50mcg.

Hopefully we're through this rough patch.

Sleeping on the couch

Is this irony?

Sleeping on the couch is a cliche for a marriage in trouble. The couple is sitting in bed, talking about something... money, sex, what have you... and something finally breaks. Someone has had it, and he or she either grabs a pillow and blanket and goes down to sleep on the couch, or else exiles the other to do the same.

The first night that she slept in the recliner, I felt terribly alone. The second night was worse. I knew I couldn't take any more. So I started sleeping on the couch. It's not as good as sleeping snuggled up against her back, one arm wrapped around her, like hours-long hug, but at least I'm in the same room with her.

That's about the extent of our intimacy. "At least I'm in the same room with her."

This has to change. It's just getting worse. It has to change now. Illness be damned. I'm not standing up for this.

Orthopedist

She went to the orthopedist today. He looked at the MRI films and decided that surgery wasn't warranted. He prescribed knee braces and physical therapy... a good thing, in our opinion.

She found a supplier of knee braces that can be worn underwater. Since this is the only place she can get exercise, this is a good thing.

She's still in a buttload of pain, though.

Fibromyalgia

She found a book today that links fibromyalgia to salicylates.

If it's true, it's quite a nasty trick for nature to play. Aspirin is a salicylate, as is the mint family. So both of them are out, to see if they help with the pain. There's a bunch of other advice in the book that may prove useful.

For now, of course, the focus is on the injury in her knees.

I was able to get out of the house and meet with some friends today for a few hours. It felt good to get out, and forget my troubles for a while, but when I came back I felt guilty for abandoning her.

She's sleeping in the recliner every night now, because the stairs are too much for her to manage. I think I'm going to sleep on the couch. At least I can be near her.

Because fat people don't injure themselves, clearly

She needs some knee braces. We went to every place that carries them in town, and even though the manufacturer makes them up to size "XXXL" the biggest any of the stores had was XL.

Because clearly, fat people don't injure themselves playing sports.

Fuckers.

Gah! Not giving up. Not giving up.

I moved her computer (a mini mac) over to the table next to the recliner. If she's going to be stuck there 16 hours a day at least she's going to be able to do something and not just let the TV wash over her.

Also (finally) got my Christmas present from Pixie, a book titled "Kushiel's Dart" by Jacqueline Carey. It's not what I'd ordinarily read but I'm going to give it a shot anyways.

Injury

I had to work late at the office today (big deadline tomorrow) so she had to cook dinner for the kids. She slipped in the kitchen, and wrenched her knee. Now there are bruises coming up between the muscles, a sure sign that she's ripped something inside it.

Xrays, MRI's, maybe a CT scan, more drugs, maybe even surgery.

It never ends.

It never. fucking. ends.

Pseudoaddiction

(Click the title for a good link about this nasty little syndrome)

Based on what she's told me about her relationship with the doctor that prescribes her pain meds, my wife is pretty deep into this syndrome.

In brief, pseudoaddiction is the set of symptoms that come about when a chronic pain patient fails to get enough medication. A pseudoaddict is constantly seeking more medication, often dramatizing pain symptoms to the doctor in order to try to get them to prescribe stronger drugs. The problem is that the doctor is looking for addiction symptoms, which look pretty much the same, and instead of raising the dose, LOWER it... thus making the pseudoaddiction worse.

It's a disease caused by doctors who don't trust their patients.

Needless to say, she's finding a new pain specialist.

Exercise is an anti-depressant

I look back on the last post and wonder how I could have been so negative, but then I just finished my workout about an hour ago, so I'm all endorphin-y.

I'm not really losing weight with this workout, but then that's not what it's for. I don't really have that much fat on my body, maybe ten or fifteen pounds extra. What I want to do is get stronger, fitter, and look better. I have to look at this body, it might as well be something I don't cringe at when I look in the mirror.

I haven't been doing this for long... eight weeks, I think? I have already noticed all kinds of great effects on my body.

I laugh more readily. I also cry more readily, but I think that's a good thing most of the time.

My stomach muscles hold my gut in "naturally" all day... I don't have to "suck it in".

I tried jogging to the grocery store the other day. I made it the whole way (about 300 yards) without getting winded... six months ago I wouldn't have been able to manage 50 yards.

Now I won't say that I'm "fit" yet... I have a long way to go. But the benefits I have found from just a few weeks of exercise have been dramatic.

Why didn't anyone tell me that the changes would come so quickly?