THIS HAPPENED TO ME
The Case of the Missing Mudditor
Searching for clues and grasping for gratitude
You’ve been missing me and I am humbled. Where have I been? In the early days of my absence I was doing swimmingly well, happily resisting the call of MuddyUm to enjoy time outside. Then — splash — I suddenly started sinking as if tied to an anchor. I’ve been sputtering ever since. Where will I end up?
Pirate overboard
Several months ago I was forced to walk the plank for bad behavior aboard the good ship MuddyUm. I had been spending long hours ruminating over bottles of rum while the rest of the crew kept the boat afloat. Eventually, the captain could no longer turn a blind, patched eye. She had to make an example of me.
Thinking I could use a bath, I sassily stepped onto the plank with all the confidence bootlegged rum inspires. As I toppled off the end head-first, I passed out. When I regained consciousness I was on a black sand beach. My eyes adjusted to the scorching sunlight just in time to see a far-off dolphin — smiling at me?! I blinked and the creature was gone.
Drifting away
Are you familiar with the feeling of waking from a dream musing, it felt so real? It was one of those mornings. I was at home in the continental U.S. — not on a tropical island bordered by black sand. Bummer. I could have used a vacation.
I chose the next-best thing, a staycation. My region attracts year-round tourists and I decided to embrace adventure with the spirit of a pirate. The more time I spent away from phone and computer screens, the better I felt. Friends and family members visited to refill their reservoirs of North Shore beauty.
What I thought would be a brief reprieve from the screentime Mudditors dedicate to editing and writing grew into an extended leave. Days turned into weeks and months. I pedaled bicycles over hundreds of miles, hiked, and witnessed Lake Superior’s waves. Often, when I watched ships approach the harbor, I thought of the MuddyUm pirate crew.
Floating on
As I contemplated asking permission to reboard the ship, I was swept away by an unexpected opportunity. I noticed a new, local business in my neighborhood that combines two of my passions — cycling and sustainability. Bicycles are one of the best forms of sustainable transportation when they replace car trips. No offense to those who prefer pirate ships.
I created a position for myself as Marketing Manager and became immersed in growing the first e-bike rental business in our city. I managed the social media accounts and online presence. This made me less inclined to return to MuddyUm as I was maxing out on screen time again.
Thankfully, the job was balanced with time outside. I felt so fortunate to be earning money riding bikes, exploring routes, taking photos and making connections in the community. Finally, after floundering through countless jobs, I was involved in a passion project — promoting sustainable transportation and enabling people to experiencing nature on two wheels.
Sinking
As the season transitioned from Summer to Autumn the magic of fall color in Northern Minnesota filled my spirit. I was determined to soak up as much time in nature as possible. Then, in mid-October, everything changed.
I woke around 4 a.m. with intense pain in both shoulders. My range of motion was so limited I couldn’t brush my teeth, comb my hair, or wipe my derrière without extreme pain. I could forgo the former two, but I had to take care of my morning bathroom business. Knowing toilet humor is a hit in MuddyUm I’m tempted to elaborate with potty-mouth pirate puns, but the butt wasn’t the worst of my problems.
I wasn’t able to bike, my main form of transportation. Borrowing a vehicle was of the question since I couldn’t drive safely with both arms pinned to my sides. A friend drove me to three Urgent Care locations that were overwhelmed due to the pandemic. I gave up and hoped my symptoms would dissipate as quickly as they had started. In case the pain persisted, I scheduled the earliest available appointment with a doctor — four days later.
Treading water
On the morning of my appointment the pain became excruciating in my left shoulder. It was 6:00 a.m. and the appointment was at 9:30. Every minute felt like an eternity as I waited. When the doctor finally entered the exam room I begged her to help. I was getting desperate. Within a couple minutes she sent me to the emergency room for pain management.
I began to fantasize about entering the ER and getting stabbed with a syringe, imagining the pain magically melting away. It may as well have been a dream about a black sand beach. Eight hours after arriving I was still pleading for help and reporting a pain level of 10+ on a scale of 1–10. It wasn’t until the fourth dose of drugs that I finally started feeling a bit of relief.
After enduring twelve hours of the most intense pain of my life —no, I haven’t given birth — I was wrecked. I’d had no food or water and was trembling incessantly. I wanted to fall asleep and wake to realize it had been a nightmare. Instead, I was admitted to the hospital once a bed was open on a non-Covid floor. It was ten minutes before midnight and I was trapped for the night, famished and feeling utterly alone in a building filled with strangers.
Lost at sea
They kept me in the hospital for several days, running a long list of tests. I refused to let phlebotomists take blood until I was allowed to eat. Then they came at regular intervals, like vampires undeterred by fluorescent lighting. I had an MRI, x-ray and ultrasound. They extracted fluid from my shoulder joint and pumped me full of drugs.
No diagnosis or explanation for my symptoms was offered. Eventually I was sent home with pain relievers that didn’t keep me out of pain. The experience was traumatizing and I haven’t recovered physically or emotionally.
For two weeks I didn’t work. Not being able to do the most basic tasks is depressing. I had taken for granted my ability to do yoga, ride bike, and generally live independently. Wiping my own butt without calling out in pain became a life goal.
It’s been the worst month of my life and there’s no end to the pain in sight. Healthcare costs are high and I struggle with extreme fatigue. I have better days and worse days in terms of mental and physical health. I don’t know what to do today, tomorrow, or for the next sixty years. I’m searching for clues to lead me to healing and health.
Life rafts
Until writing this, I hadn’t shared with many people because I’m unwilling to accept my condition as chronic. I believe in our power to create our realities. Yet I’ve admitted I need help getting through the moments in my current reality.
Although I often feel alone in this experience, I’m grateful for the people in my life who are supporting me. The ones I’ve confided in have responded with overwhelming compassion. From washing and combing my hair to providing emotional support, they are keeping me going — and giving me motivation to shower once in awhile.
When I’m descending into depression, I grasp for gratitude. Taking time to feel grateful for what I can do, instead of dwelling on what I can’t, feels better. I haven’t pulled a shirt over my head for over a month — but I can walk, talk, see, smell and drink coffee.
It’s not all bad as long as there’s good coffee. I am incredibly grateful for my partner, friends and family who love me in the ways they can. I have to hold onto hope or I would be consumed with despair — the crushing thoughts of not fulfilling my dreams.
You can be a life raft
While my spirit is trapped in a broken body, all hope has not been lost. I bear good news. I’m off-the-captain’s-hook for scrubbing the poop deck, because of my body’s maladies. Captain Susan Brearley has a new role in mind for me when I return. I hope it has something to do with rum.
You may remember the Mudditor’s GoFundMe for our voracious volunteer editorial team. Generous donations recently brought Sarah back from Uranus. Additional booty will purchase an inflatable raft to get me back to the good ship MuddyUm. We may be comedy writers, but seriously, healthcare costs require a hefty chest of gold bouillon.
GoFundMe Themed Humor
Support the MuddyUm editorial team and keep the giggles going. We love our crew!