From the Shadows

This post will more than likely be dark, disturbing, and contain profanity.  I will not be upset if any of my readers stop reading here...

  I've been stripped of my ability to drive, go for a walk, pour a glass of milk or water, shower daily, shave daily, fix my own meals, and clean my area of living.  This week I've been stripped of the desire to do anything.  No postings, just a few lines here and there in scattered journals, my personal journal left empty for too long.  And now I'm finding myself angry.  I have no where to aim my venom, and have been lashing out in every direction.  I simply want to yell 'FUCK' into the wind and let it find the ears of everyone.
  Three days have passed since I made an inquiry of the VFW.  They still haven't called me back.  In a perfect world those agencies that render the hopeless veteran homeless should be homeless as well.  I'm willing to bet that they'd all work a bit faster, act in a more diligent way, if they found their shelter missing every time they played these games.  For as much drag time that they have, you'd think they were disabled too.  Could you imagine if they had to work while suffering with pain that blinds; renders the victim feeble minded.  We showed Illinois the governments bare ass, caught them with their pants down, and there still is little progress made.
  Perhaps, if the nation (or the state) had to sacrifice like our service members, they'd have a different perspective.  Perhaps if they all had to spend just a few days crippled and in pain, they'd never let a transgression of this magnitude to go on.
  I still haven't heard from my mayor.  He didn't have anyone running against him... again...  Where does a non-caring windbag have a secure job where he doesn't have to do anything?  Crystal Lake, Illinois.  I've often spent time thinking about causing him as much pain as I suffer with and watch him.  I think I'd actually laugh.  I honestly don't think the bastard has had one day of adversity in his whole life.
  I've been lectured about respect, and I live in a place where I don't feel that I'm offered any.  My door is constantly opened and shut while I rest, my work is interrupted when I'm actually able to accomplish anything, my belongings and my safe haven are often trashed.  Where is the respect?  Today I rose to requirements stemmed from individuals simply not wanting to follow simple directions, and now I can't rest because there's voices in my room (yes, they belong to people) that are annoying.  I have to ask for permission to see my daughter, but no one asks me my permission to have their friends over.  They simply don't care what condition I'm in, what I suffer with.  The rules only apply to myself, my wife, and my child.  They're one-sided and ignored when they don't fit the life style of those who are housing us.
  Now most people will be up and arms at this statement.  I can hear the comments already.  "It's their house, and they can do that," "They don't have to follow rules if they're in place for only you," etc.
  Perhaps the voices of opposition are right.

  So with no regard to me, life moves on in whatever way it wants here.  It seems like those who have given us shelter don't feel like they need to bother, like I don't need to be.  That's it...
  I feel like I don't need to exist; as if there is no regard to me and my situation.  I feel like the government has swept me into a corner, and my providers of shelter have completely disregarded what I go through.  I feel like a small fleck of dirt; tired, and drawn thin, from the constant sweeping into corners.  I find my breath hard coming, and the pressures of trying to demonstrate my existence slowly compressing me into nothingness.
  I'm tired, of just about everything......
       FUCK

Page Changes, Tiredness

  For those of you who haven't noticed, I've added a couple new pages to my blog.  You can reach them at the top of the page.  The first one is a treatment log, and the second one is images, articles, and videos that directly relate to being a veteran with RSD.  I have also changed one of my links to Rebecca's Whims.  I felt inclined to add this link because she makes herbal pillows that really do help with relaxation and muscle fatigue, things I know others with RSD and chronic pain are very familiar with.  That's about it for page updates.  Oh, and I've been hearing many people comment that there's no place to comment on my page.  Please make sure you're in the blog entry by clicking its title and I assure you there will be a place to comment.

  The weekend was a busy one, and I've been paying for it dearly over the last couple days.  I've been in a bit of a daze and fading in and out of reality.  I'm sure this would be a fun thing if I was on vacation and wanted to catch up on sleep, but it's simply what life is now when I attempt to exert myself.  Today has been a bit of a recovery day as well, but I think the worst is over and I'm ready to sit down and write some new poems and short stories, as well as work on other projects I have going.  Please follow the link to the right to Shear's Shorts to read some of my work and listen to my music if you have the time and inclination to do so.

  Sorry this is such a brief entry, but I assure you there will be plenty to write about over the next few weeks with my Social Security trial coming up on the 3rd of March, and my medical exams having been completed for the Veteran's Benefits claim.

  Thanks for stopping by,

        K.M. Shear

In A Puddle

Over the weekend my family celebrated my son's third birthday.  It was a wonderful experience watching the children play and eat.  We went to the Rain Forrest Cafe in a nearby mall.  We rented a wheel chair for me so that I could visit some of the stores and get around easily.  The trip was overly painful and exhaustive, but worth every minute of suffering.
I was very pleased with how quickly I recovered, and in my excitement of feeling mildly 'ok' I asked my mother to take my son and I to the bookstore yesterday.  During the adventure my son misplaced his hat, and my mother went to look for it while Lincoln and I browsed the kids area.
I turned round and Lincoln was gone.  He had run off to play in the toy area.  The poor child looked up at me and said, "I peed."  His eyes were pleading, and his little hands were stretched out as if he was asking me to pick him up and take him away to a safe place.  All I could do was stand there and hold his hand while we waited for his grandmother to come and help get him cleaned up.  I felt I had failed as a parent because of my disability.
Today the pain is very severe.  The combination of the trip to the mall, and the trip to the bookstore, has left me reeling in agony.  Everything burns on my right side, and all I can think to do is hope I pass out sooner, rather than later, and pray when I come to the pain has subsided.  I'm not at a point were I may have to go to the hospital, but if the pain continues to grow I may end up there at some point.  Time will tell I suppose.

I'm up to the full dose of the PTSD medication I was prescribed, and I'm not sure it's working.  I'm still having nightmares, but I'm waking up in the midsts of them very startled.  If, in my dream, I'm dropping something, I awake grasping for it.  The sudden jerks at the time of awakening have caused pain levels to be aggravated due to accidental bumps of the limbs during the thrashing about.  I'm also still very jumpy and sensitive to loud noises.
When anything gets loud I start to loose my patience, grind my teeth, and if it's sudden enough I find myself curling away to protect the parts of my body that aren't afflicted with RSD.  I have no control over these reactions, and, believe me, I've made several attempts to minimize the behavior with no success.

Thank you all for taking the time to read,
K.M. Shear

The Full Dose

  Last night was the first time taking the full dose of my PTSD medication.  I haven't seen much of a change in my dream patterns.  It's interesting that I now wake up mid dream though.  Last night I had a dream that my son was falling through an elevator shaft, the door had closed on my leg, and I was reaching for him desperately.  I woke up flailing and in tears.  The flailing doesn't seem to be helping me with my pain.
  I have hopes that I'll be able to clean up a poem I began work on during my appointments last week.  I wrote it in the waiting area.  I hate that area.   It's sterile, white, and wreaks of mental institution.  I'm only mildly psychologically impaired and I felt like I had been committed; can't fathom what this would be like for an individual breaking at their psychological core.  The room is complete with old fashioned television broadcasting some form of white trash project, unfinished puzzle on the single round table at the back of the room.  The windows are covered with a metal mesh screen, and the men in white lab coats drift here and there collecting their next subject with the mild call of a name.  You can feel the discomfort of others as they glance about wondering what form of hell they just stepped, or wheeled, into.
  I set out to write a journal entry, but the only thing that came to mind was poetic in nature.  I hope I can finish it and post it on my Shear's Shorts site.  There's a link to the right that you can click to get to it.
  My Fentanyl patches seem to want to only stick to my fore arms.  I've tried to get them to hold on for their three day period in other places, but to no avail.  I'm sure the appearance of the patches on my arms makes doctors question my use of them.  Even when I try to explain they turn a distrusting eye in my direction.  Since the appliance of the patches I haven't needed to be seen in an Emergency Room, and I think that should be a check mark in the 'win' column, but my sleep schedule is wrecked, if not non-existant, and some days I feel an unstoppable drag pulling me into sleep state while other days I can't seem to calm down.
Enough droning for one morning.  I have words to craft.

My humblest appreciation to those of you still reading,

K.M. Shear

Exhaustive Progress

  I would like to start by expressing my sincerest apology to all of my readers.  I had never intended on letting my disability get in the way of providing detailed information and opinions to my readers' awareness.  It's been several days since my last posting.

  Truth be told, I've found myself very drained since my last set of medical appointments.  Last Monday I was scene in Milwaukee to evaluate my nightmares, and then a full day was spent this past Thursday at the North Chicago facility for evaluations in conjunction to my claims.  Progress was made, but was severely taxing on my own level of will.  I've spent several days now over the last week simply unconscious; with a mind to create and write, but no will to do so.  I'm not sure if it's a matter of depression, or simply my body quitting on me.  I'm unsure if I'd even want to know.  If it's depression I'm doomed to adding more mediations to an, already, oversized list.  If it's my body unable to handle the stresses I put it through then it stands to reason that future endeavors may put me out of commission as well...

  I learned that the symptoms I'm exhibiting are those of an individual with PTSD.  They prescribed Prazosin to help ease the nightmares, and want to keep an eye on me to combat my other symptoms if they get overly grand.  Sadly, because my trauma is ongoing, I can not be diagnosed with PTSD, but they'll be treating me as a PTSD patient...  I'm not sure what kind of medical sense that makes, but that's what I've been told.

  The full day of diagnostics on Thursday really took a toll.  I was examined by 4 different professionals and had multiple ex-rays and scans completed.  The doctors seemed honestly baffled that I was denied my initial claim.  The neurologist even told us that his initial write up was of an individual barely able to conduct the basest of human activity.  We were given his name and express instructions to contact him should we be denied another time.  Amy was allowed to be present through every examination except the psychological exam.  This was a major difference compared to previous visits.  There was a certain level of remorse and explanations that they couldn't comprehend how they denied the benefits increase.  I suppose that if things have to go to a hearing level we'll have their doctor's testifying on our behalf...

  I'm hoping that I've caught up on my sleep and have recuperated enough to start my life again.  I'm not overly tired at the moment and think I'll journal a bit (I keep a paper journal) and work on some poetry.  If I manage to stay awake tomorrow then I have plans to finish 'The Three Musketeers' and find a new piece of literature to delve into.  The last few days my vision has been terrible, and I attribute it to the exertions of last week.  Time will only tell.  I'll make plans to have a new post with updated information later in the week...

Thank you all for taking the time to read,
K.M.Shear

Medical Appointments, Breakfast Reservations, and God's Angels

  Just six hours till Christmas.  I honestly didn't think we'd have one this year, but several groups donated so much that we've been able to have a nice meal and Santa will show up for Lincoln.  This year God's angels were hard at work in our lives, and I hope that next year I will be able to be one of those angels.
  This morning we spent time with some of my old friends from school.  We had a nice, simple breakfast at Around The Clock restaurant, and I'm paying the price for my good time.  It was worth every minute of pain though.  It seems so odd to see people I used to share classes with sitting with their own children, and it makes my heart skip a beat when I realize how amazing those people will be as parents.  We may have been one of the last generations that lived without the bombardment of the digital world, and I know that we'll succeed in creating a pocket of individuals who appreciate hard work and earning.
  Yesterday I made an appointment to see a PTSD doctor about my night terrors.  As I had commented on one of my previous threads, last night's was the worst.  I kept 'waking up', but not really waking up.  It happened seven times before I finally found myself in the real world, and I've spent most of the day half expecting to wake up after having something terrible happen to my right leg.  Maybe tonight I'll not have them, more likely I will.
  My son and wife are both ill.  Nothing serious, just head colds, but enough to keep us from being able to spend time with my mother and step-father because of his recent surgery.  It's best that we not get him ill because we love him and want him to stick around for quite a while longer.  So, it's just been us for the day, and it's been wonderful.  Lincoln is playing a game on the PS3, and trying to goad Amy into playing too.  They fight so much when they play together, and all I can do is chuckle.  Someday they'll learn to work together...  Someday...

  God blessed me this year with some of the most amazing people.  Jhon Baker, an amazing poet and philosopher has given me so much.  Noah Kaplowitz who has helped me further my causes and spent much time on corroborative works.  I think the three of us have leaned on each other so equally that it's kept us on our feet.  Scott Little, who's been giving me art lessons and spending time with me despite the fact he really hasn't had much of it.  Lars Jensen who's always been there for me, despite the ocean between us (you're going to get some English readers here, so you better start posting in English for us).
  My wife, Amy, who's put up with, and taken on, so much that I don't think I'd have survived RSD without her.  My mother; who brought me into this world and taught me to love and laugh, rage and cry.  Without her my son wouldn't be who he is today, and I wouldn't have been strong enough to make it through all my pain.  My father, Mike Shear, who spent so many hours driving from Iowa to here just to spend a few days at a time helping me when I had no one else.  I learned how to speak and succeed from my father, and how to laugh when things aren't at their best.  My stepfather Jeff, from whom I've learned to 'tell it like it is' and accept the fact that there's a lot of dumb asses out there.  My grandfather who I miss dearly.  He taught me how to be at peace in the world when we would go fishing or hunting together.  Firing a weapon still centers and empowers me to this day.  My grandmother, who taught me dedication to family and kept us from going under throughout the year.  My nephew Alex, who's gamed with me even when I've been blinded by pain and been useless.  I'll be on line again soon my friend.  And Corey Leese and the Divine Knights, Corey's stuck by me through thick and thin, and helped me find a group of fantastic new teammates to game with.
  Illinois Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy Syndrome Association who's meetings have helped me feel like I'm still part of the world, and not alone in my struggles.  Congressman Manzullo's office, and Vera Moore of the VFW have been extremely helpful in my claims.  We may not have succeeded, but they still deserve recognition for all of their hard work and diligence.  McHenry County Marine Corps League, my brothers and sisters who have offered so much support, and given my son a Christmas, both on their own and through others who donated.
  I know it's asking a lot to have you all check out all these links, but these people deserve it.  They've given so much of themselves for me and my family, so please take the time to check them all out.  And to those of you who I haven't personally mentioned, leave a comment so I can include you in this 'thank you' post.
  Despite all the pain, and our eviction in seven days, I feel nothing but peace; happiness.  Blessed.

With all the gratitude I can muster,  Happy Holidays,

Kev

From Nightmare to Nightmare

  I sleep on my couch most of the time.  It isolates me from moving about too much and aggravating my leg.  My dreams have been getting worse over the last few weeks, and I'm finding myself awake more and more.

I'm sleeping on the couch and it begins to shake; tremor.  I get up and open the door to our small apartment; find the weather outside to be balmy and warm.  I'm walking in a normal fashion, with no aid, but the stones on the paved area are causing pain to the bottom of my right foot.  It's like walking on glass.  I'm at an airport and a few hundred yards from a single runway.  A large jet is coming in for  landing, and I can hear the tower radio telling them to abort.  The jet comes in anyway and crashes; explodes in front of me.  I turn to run.  My right foot hits the ground and a piece of shrapnel tears through it.  Falling; hitting the pavement.  More shards of metal and glass rain down into my right leg, and I scream with agony.

  Awake, and in just as much pain as in the dream.  I'm still trying to catch my breath, and my eyes are still watering.  It's getting to the point that I'm jumping at every sound, expecting my leg to be damaged.  I'm spending most nights awake trying not to scream and wake my family...

One Night's Good Sleep

  Often people don't realize that chronic pain leads to sleep deprivation.  I'll go weeks praying for just one nights good sleep.  My prayers where finally answered last night.  I've not felt this alive in months!  I think one of the reasons I slept so well is because my dreams where so incredibly vivid and surreal...
  I was thinking about posting the dream here, but it covered a period of about 3 weeks and would be far too long, so I'm going to try to write it up and post it as an attachment later this week...
  Sorry for the short post, but I'm entertaining having my weekends be light posting sessions with heavier, and lengthened, posts during the week.
  Thanks for reading, and I'll have a healthy post for you all next week!