Conflicted Canadian On Canada Day

Today marks 150 years in the millennia that the land we call Canada has existed. It is the 150th year; I am told is most significant, because this is the anniversary of when this land became a sovereign nation under the rule of a government formed to manage, then control, the land and all the people and resources that inhabited it since time immemorial. It is the anniversary of the sliver of time marked first by exploration and curiosity of what lay beyond horizons; then scarred by the efforts of all that has been done to erase the pre-historic presence that welcomed the adventurous spirit of strangers to share in all that could be seen before them.

Today is the day that marks the efforts of erasure, which continue even in the choosing of an arbitrary number representing a blink of an eye in the vast time that this land and its people have stood strong. I have benefitted from all the efforts of erasure to live in a country where I have freedoms, privileges, and opportunities not always available to the people indigenous to this land. People whose history cannot be contained by the 150 years of celebrated oppression, violence, and ignorance of what existed before and continues to thrive even under endless attempts to snuff it out. I benefit from the stereotypes that paint the Indigenous Peoples of this land as undeserving and incapable children requiring constant surveillance and micromanagement as the boundless wisdom they hold is ignored and this land faces the same plight to which we have sentenced them.

While I and others are free to live life, wherever and however we choose within this young nation, the Indigenous Peoples of this land to whom the number 150 marks only a brief moment in their history, remain relegated to pockets of land reserved for their kind. Where their status as non-relevant bodies in the vast time and geography of this land is perpetuated by restrictive rule of laws. When that status was deemed insufficient to contain the internal savages of nations within this celebrated nation, it was paired with re-education to break the spirits we now know are strong and eternally bonded to the land.

How can I celebrate today? How can I celebrate only this selected 150 years of the history of this land? How can I celebrate a country that describes itself as multicultural and calls itself a mosaic, when its Indigenous Peoples and many of the peoples that came after them are not treated as equal or worthy as those who have arbitrarily plucked this number from the timeline?

 

Canadian Native Flag designed by Kwakwaka’wakw artist Curtis Wilson

Sleep: The Unconscious Way to Cope With Pain

Have you ever had such intense pain, physical, or other, that all you could do to cope with it is sleep?

I’ve slept for the better part of the last 2 days. I had to attend a family event on Sunday afternoon. When I say “had to” I don’t mean forced to, I mean I would have felt horrible – worse than the pain I’ve had since – if I hadn’t attended because it was in honour of one of my favourite aunts who does whatever she can for everyone. However, between the drive to the home of my uncle who hosted, moving around to interact with all the family members and family friends; and then the drive home, my body had to go into near shutdown so I could cope with the resulting pain flare up.

By the time I arrived home around 11:00 PM on Sunday night, I knew I was in for a rough few days; not to mention my experience dictates that it takes at the very least two days for me to recover after going out to do anything. Upon arriving at my uncle’s house in the afternoon, my pain level was already climbing; and on the drive home, the soreness in my legs had already become unbearably intense. When my feet touched the ground as I got out of the car, it was definite that I would not escape the punishment for daring to enjoy life just a little bit while celebrating the life of someone I love. After shutting the door to my home behind me, I made a beeline for my bedroom to change into cozy pajamas then I went into the bathroom to perform the nightly rituals of brushing my teeth and putting my hair up so I don’t wake up with an equally painful tangled mess of hair to deal with.

I was in bed by midnight. It took some time to fall asleep because I was so uncomfortable with the pain building throughout my body. I vaguely remember waking a few times during the night, but I know I was too exhausted to awaken fully to take my overnight breakthrough dose of pain medications. I even slept late and missed taking my first large dose of pain medications on time at 6:00 AM. However, being late this one morning didn’t matter much because being asleep kept me unaware of the pain. The rest of Monday was spent in a groggy haze of pain medications and sleep, but I didn’t miss much because it poured rain most of the day and the grey sky outside was not at all appealing.

I woke up around 4:00 PM because my phone rang. It was my therapist calling me. I called him on Saturday shortly after coming out of my panic attack so he was responding to my message. I knew he wasn’t in the office during the weekend, but I felt that I had to talk to him as soon as it was possible to sort through why the panic attack might have happened. As usual, he helped me sort through the still lingering feelings and to realize how everything I’m coping with – including the current pain flare up – and all that I’ve lived through in my life are so deeply connected, it makes a panic attack a reasonable thing for me – or anyone dealing with so much – to experience. He also gave me some practical tips on how to cope if I have another episode: splash my face with cold water, put cold water/a wet cloth on the back of my neck, breathe into a paper bag, lay on the floor so I feel grounded, and connect visually with objects around me so I can know what’s real. I was grateful for that conversation and the clarity it brought.

I stayed awake for a few hours after that conversation. My friend R called for one of our weekly chats. Then I tried to make sense of the horrible news of the day and deciding what my stomach could tolerate so I could make a meal. I failed at both and fell back to sleep on my couch. I managed to wake up a few hours later to take my last large dose of pain medications and I might have stayed awake for about an hour or two. The next thing I became aware of was that for a second morning in a row my body opted to sleep as late as it could handle before waking to take my morning dose of pain and other medications. After doing that, I still had the need for two morning naps.

I also realize, sometimes I have to accept that it’s not always conscious methods that are best for coping with my pain.

 

The Beatles – Golden Slumbers/Carry That Weight/The End

 

Panic Without A Disco

I had a panic attack this morning. It’s the second one I’ve ever had. Both have been visited upon me since becoming ill almost four years ago. The first one came while I was in the hospital emergency room one night seeking help to manage an intensely painful pain spike. Immediately after the nurse injected a dose of morphine into the line of my IV drip it felt like there was an elephant sat on my chest preventing me from breathing properly. Catching my breath felt impossible and I started to feel dizzy, as I lay almost flat on my back on the hospital bed. The medical team treating me had to jump into action to make sure I wasn’t having an allergic reaction or a coronary episode of some kind. They ruled out both and concluded that the feeling that my lungs compressed caused me to panic.

This morning’s panic attack happened because of what I suspect were two concurrent shocks to my system. The first was waking suddenly from a very vivid nightmare. I don’t want to recount it because it’s the kind of thing best left in darkness. However, every moment of it felt frighteningly real and when I woke from it I was afraid. I was trembling. I was breathing heavily. When I moved I felt intense pain in my back, pelvis, and legs that made it hard for me to move so I could self-sooth and calm my breathing. Falling out of such lucid images of fear to land in the pain-filled reality of my body must have shocked my nervous system in a way similar to the day I received that shot of morphine in the emergency room.

When I was finally able to stand up I made my way to the bathroom where I sat for a long time trying to catch my breath. I had to talk to myself to coax my body back to calm. I’m not certain how long it took to normalize my breathing but it felt like an eternity and even then I was still shaking; still feeling the incredible pain shooting up my back and down my legs. In another eternity, I walked to the living room and sat on my couch where I have stayed most of today. I was also forced to face the reality that the plans of having one of my closest friends come visit me later in the day had to be postponed. That hurt too.

Sadly, there are times when my body and mind send me painful messages I can’t ignore. As a result, I’ve spent most of the day trying to move as little as possible because the pain has been so intense. Even though it’s early evening now, my hands are still somewhat shaky and my stomach still feels a bit unsettled. If I could clearly articulate what it felt like during this morning’s episode, it might look something like what I’ve drawn below: spikey, wavy, and disorganized all at once.

I hope no one else has had this kind of Saturday.