There are all these people preaching hate in the name of freedom. I don’t know why they’re doing it — their idea of what’s important to freedom don’t seem to line up with mine — and I’d like to become curious, some time, about what they’re doing. But for now, I’m just really really sick of it.

Health Care Reform

The current health care legislation is lame and inadequate, but for purposes of this post, let’s assume we’re talking about real reform — the kind that means people don’t go blind or lose limbs or die because they can’t afford health care.

Here’s what I want to tell folks who claim to be speaking for freedom, for limited government, for constitutional government:

AFTER we’re free of a census that asks us to tell the government our “race”,
AFTER we don’t have standing armies all over the world,
AFTER we aren’t in a permanent state of war against a vague enemy,
AFTER we aren’t in a “drug war” that results in a higher percentage of Americans being in prison than citizens of any other major country and kills zillions of people each year,
AFTER corporations aren’t treated as people while being protected from the consequences of their actions,
AFTER we no longer have an IRS that’s above the law and ruins lives,
AFTER the P.A.T.R.I.O.T. Act is seen as a horrible, tragic mistake we once made, and could never make again…

AFTER all those things, and after we’ve solved the problem of human beings experiencing horrible suffering for lack of health care while we stand by and do nothing, let’s sit down over a nice cup of coffee and see if we can come up with an even better solution that honors that beautiful thing called liberty.

I learned something about good days yesterday, though. See, I ride a couple of miles to my community garden space, and when I have to go uphill, I often barely (baaaaaaaarely) make it in first gear. Yesterday, I went over the hill in my highest gear. In fact, I rode the whole way in my highest or second-highest gear. I never used anything under 6 (out of 7).

That’s the only thing that told me I was having a good day. I was happy that I’d decided to bike, thinking I wasn’t being as lazy as usual, but I didn’t recognize that the day was any different until I noticed how easy it was to bike. In fact, my first thought was that the bike, or the weather, or the roads were different. “Did I fill up the tires?” I just don’t consider the possibility that my body doesn’t work sometimes. I had decided (on the bad days) that it was the ride that was difficult, rather than my body not working.

You might wonder why I share things like this. It’s because I figure that there are other people out there living in denial, and reading about how thick-headed I am might just help them open their eyes. And, I suppose, I hope it’ll help me remember as well.

The good news is that I’m learning things. I think it’s taken me this long to get the big lesson through my head, the one about taking care of myself.

I thought I was getting it, but only recently have I really been able to set aside my obligations and go to bed if I need to, or even go sit by the river and watch the geese. In my old life, that would have counted as “wasting time” and “goofing off.” Now, sometimes it’s the only hope I have today of being well enough to work tomorrow.

So no Karate for now. My new love is my bike. And it hardly hurts at all to ride.

I have a “lens” on squidoo.com called CFS or Fibromyalgia and Exercise? You have got to be kidding! and today I woke up to find it had some actual traffic. Some sleuthing told me that Seth Godin, the brain behind Squidoo, had mentioned it in his blog. And someone else mentioned Seth’s blog entry in his blog.
Isn’t the Intarweb amazing?

Oh, by the way. To see the Karate Snowball of Doom picture, also known as “Famous Fat Lady does Karate,” you’ll have to visit the lens. I’m sure not posting that picture twice!

Today, I was weak. And I was in pain. And I thought that maybe this is a really stupid idea.

All of these people around me were working out, and I had to sit down and stretch. Why did I ever think I could do this? Fibromyalgia is just too much. It was all I could do to keep from crying.
But I managed to remind myself that before I had to sit down, I’d done thirty push-ups (on my knees, thank you very much). And that I’d been moving, and that I got plenty of aerobic exercise.

It wasn’t fun, but I still have to admit that it’s better having fibromyalgia this way than in a wheelchair or sitting on the couch. I just hope I can remember that, because I have the feeling it’s going to hurt for a while.

…until last week.

The dojo was closed on Monday and Tuesday for Independence Day. And Wednesday I got sick. It was clear that I was really ill, and couldn’t do class, but psychology, it was still a battle.

When you have Fibromyalgia, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, or another chronic, invisible illness, healthy people — even if they’re too nice to say so — wonder if you could try a little harder, if you’re drinking enough water, if you would do better if you’d get out more. But what many people don’t realize is that we have those same doubts. Most of us, anyway. And no matter how clear it is that no, I really couldn’t try any harder, the doubts come up.

When today came around and I wasn’t sick anymore, it was time to go back to the dojo. Scary! I have this nagging devil in my mind that says that I only missed class because I’m lazy. (Laziness is another word for Fibromyalgia, don’t you know.) That same devil was saying that I shouldn’t go back, it will be too hard, I may not be completely better, it will be too much.

But, as always, in the end I could say “I did it!” I can still, hours later, feel it. And I’m a little woozy, looking forward to bed.

But I’m also looking forward to class tomorrow. Life is good.

Our culture says “I’ve hired you as a teacher, so it’s your job to provide me with a facility (dojo), and to provide me with training.” I’m told that traditional Japanese culture, and our dojo’s culture, says “thank you for being willing to share your wisdom with me. How can I ever repay you?” I like the latter approach. It feels right.

That said, I wasn’t planning to sign up. I didn’t think I could do anything helpful, because of my illness. By now, though, I’m beginning to feel much less weak, much more capable.

So today I climbed the stairs several times, climbed a ladder even more times, and used a heavy drill to screw in drywall screws.

I’m sore, but very happy.

Hey! Now I finally have that athletic soreness. Wonder if that means I’m getting better?

The regular class starts right after the beginners’ class ends, and, after a few minutes’ rest, I decided I wanted to do it, today. What was I thinking?!

Of course it was “too much.” This time I wasn’t so scared, though, and I wasn’t so red. I rested for a long time before I got a shower. All in all it took me another hour to get out of there. But I felt good.

I went, and it wasn’t bad at all. Well, it was hard, but that’s good. I got to find out that I could still get through a hard class.

Have to remember to pace myself, kick low and slow when I need to.

I want to say it was the hardest class yet, but I’ve said that too many times. It was really scary, though. I kept thinking, “maybe this is where I’m supposed to quit.” I wondered if I’d pass out. I wondered if I’d start a serious flare.

But of course, I got through. Instead of exhilaration, though, I cried a little in the locker room. It was overwhelming, emotionally and physically. My face was red for an hour afterward.

I think that means I overdid it.

What now? Should I go on Wednesday? Should I take a break?

I’ll decide tomorrow.