If I disclose this symptomatic information to my doctor, I suspect she'll try to medicate me, as well as having me psychoanalyzed. Heck, I'm not even sure they psychoanalyze anymore. There's probably some newfangled term defining intrusive mine probing these days - a glorious task that doesn't obviously indicate potential madness within the patient.
So whatever… I know better than to disclose certain sensations or symptoms to the medical community at large. Remember, they tried to lock me in a psych ward upon arrival at the nursing home a couple of years back, insinuating that I was making up the entirety of my illness. And also, they were angry and frustrated that I wouldn't take the unnecessary meds. I was bullied, threatened and accosted by the psychiatric staff members. I'm sure some of you remember those days of desperation, heck, I sure do.
In any case, there's no reason why I need to be psychoanalyzed due to what's suddenly happening to me.
You may be wondering, what exactly is happening to me? Curious, aren't you? Well, hold on tight, I'm about to take you deep into the monochrome realm of the Twilight Zone.
Symptoms and Situations
Every time I physically touch my wife's activated muscles (example: if I touch her skin while she's flexing or activating a singular muscle or her muscle groups) I feel an intense vibration, and then eventually, a slightly uncomfortable shock, originating at my fingertips, then eventually radiating up and into my elbow, before terminating.
This sensation only occurs when a muscle group of hers is active / being utilized / flowing with energy.
If her muscles are relaxed, I feel no sensation whatsoever, besides the smoothness of her skin.
As a result of repeatedly touching her (yes, I dove into this sensation long and hard, trying to make sure whether or not it was actually happening), my right forearm and fingers are exhausted - and my elbow hurts, similar to the ever painful and disconcerting “funny bone” sensation - and that sensation lasted throughout the night. Even now, two days later, my elbow still occasionally aches.
What the hell is going on here?
As best I can explain, this sensation feels similar to having received a gentle electric shock, or possibly similar to using a TENS unit (set on "high").
Of course, I've done research on my end and have yet to find anything remotely similar… besides perhaps, some people on the autism spectrum. Being highly sensitive to physical vibrations isn't uncommon.
Of note, I do not have any other strange or abnormal symptoms occuring at this time.
Truth be told, and in almost all respects, I am a highly sensitive person (H.S.P.) who hears, smells, tastes and feels at a level above and beyond anyone I've ever met. Indeed, I was born that way, with my mind virtually incapable of blocking out external stimuli, so everything comes at me at once. Great in regards to creative pursuits and quick-witted responses, but not so great when a calming peaceful quietness is desired.
So that's where I'm at right now, nearly three days later. I’ve stopped touching her.
But how about this? Could it be her exclusively… might it only be she who generates a type of energy that causes this condition?
What I need to do now (as part of a comparison) is touch somebody else in a similar manner. The problem being, there's no one readily available.
Yes, I could have physically touched the garage door repair people yesterday, but really, how does one do so without seeming downright creepy and intrusive?
I could also roll down the boulevard and touch on some of the homeless folk lingering nearby. I'm sure they are in need of physical touch and / or affection. Perhaps it would work out better if I offered particular individuals $5 to let me physically touch their bare skin (more specifically, their activated muscles). Then again, if I'm going to be handing out money, I could instead simply roll down the boulevard a bit further and go to the local strip club… maybe they'd give me a discount, $20 per touch session. But perhaps strip clubs don't work that way. Many moons ago, and back in the olden days it was the other way around - they touch you, you don't touch them, unless you want the bouncer to bounce you out of the joint.
Eh. Another unknowable unknown with little potential for a proper diagnosis. I suspect the problem will go away on its own. Or instead, I shall go away as a result of this issue. Where would I go away to? That's for the universe to know, and me to find out.
An Open and Shut Door
As I alluded to earlier (in one of the preceding paragraphs), the garage door people finally came out and they finally did something; they repaired the garage door for $600. But here's the problem, they didn't paint the garage door. They explained to me that it would be an additional $450 to do so. And of course, that's not what they told me when they originally came out to give an estimate.
And then, here's the second problem with these garage people. I signed off on the charges, but they double charged me somehow. So now we have to deal with getting a refund.
Just after the garage door people departed, the disability person showed up - the guy who is capable of determining whether or not a stairlift can be installed, which would allow me to go upstairs and downstairs and upstairs again.
The problem being? It's a rather difficult staircase consisting of four 90° angles. And then additionally, the landing is uneven, making it an extremely difficult to transfer for the user. Of course, I am the user. The potential user. And as it turns out, everything is difficult, so I am not surprised.
At this juncture, the disability guy isn't sure this type of stair lifting operation will work within these confines, so I've got to wait additional weeks for an architectural engineer to show up and properly assess the options.
Either way, I'm going to be locked in upstairs for a period of time lasting at least two months, and perhaps indefinitely (if they can't figure out how to work around).
Ramping Up
He also mentioned that placing a ramp leading to the outdoor balcony may not work either. Not enough space. Tough angles. But I've got the wheelchair woman coming next week to make a proper assessment on that issue.
The woman coming out next week is the same woman who originally fitted me for my power wheelchair two years ago. She also visited an additional time in order to make adjustments to the wheelchair after it came off the assembly line.
Back then, I really appreciated her efforts. Not only did she fast track the production of my chair, but she was also extremely personable. As a matter of fact, she physically touched me all over the place while making adjustments to my chair.
No, I hope that doesn't sound creepy, but I really enjoy being the recipient of physical touch, something that's been lacking in my life ever since I became ill. That specific kind of physical sensation makes me feel normal, and wanted (simple incidental contact). And she most assuredly went out of her way to make me feel wanted, which I truly appreciated.
That's one of the things I miss most since leaving the nursing home six months ago. Physical engagement. Emotional engagement. Conversational engagement.
The wife pays attention to me for an hour or two every evening, but I guess sometimes I feel as though I need more than that in my daily life. For some reason I crave novelty, a variety of interactions, the element of surprise, an audience to entertain…
Bottom Lines
Craving causes suffering. Craving results in suffering?
Well, take your pick. But it's true. Both of those. And when I'm craving something, or craving actual life experiences, I am often missing whatever it is that's immediately in front of me. So let that be a lesson to me!
Looks like I've surpassed the 1200 word mark already, so I'll stop writing / dictating into the phone / sharing my super groovy life experiences.
Take care,
Howard
So whatever… I know better than to disclose certain sensations or symptoms to the medical community at large. Remember, they tried to lock me in a psych ward upon arrival at the nursing home a couple of years back, insinuating that I was making up the entirety of my illness. And also, they were angry and frustrated that I wouldn't take the unnecessary meds. I was bullied, threatened and accosted by the psychiatric staff members. I'm sure some of you remember those days of desperation, heck, I sure do.
In any case, there's no reason why I need to be psychoanalyzed due to what's suddenly happening to me.
You may be wondering, what exactly is happening to me? Curious, aren't you? Well, hold on tight, I'm about to take you deep into the monochrome realm of the Twilight Zone.
Symptoms and Situations
Every time I physically touch my wife's activated muscles (example: if I touch her skin while she's flexing or activating a singular muscle or her muscle groups) I feel an intense vibration, and then eventually, a slightly uncomfortable shock, originating at my fingertips, then eventually radiating up and into my elbow, before terminating.
This sensation only occurs when a muscle group of hers is active / being utilized / flowing with energy.
If her muscles are relaxed, I feel no sensation whatsoever, besides the smoothness of her skin.
As a result of repeatedly touching her (yes, I dove into this sensation long and hard, trying to make sure whether or not it was actually happening), my right forearm and fingers are exhausted - and my elbow hurts, similar to the ever painful and disconcerting “funny bone” sensation - and that sensation lasted throughout the night. Even now, two days later, my elbow still occasionally aches.
What the hell is going on here?
As best I can explain, this sensation feels similar to having received a gentle electric shock, or possibly similar to using a TENS unit (set on "high").
Of course, I've done research on my end and have yet to find anything remotely similar… besides perhaps, some people on the autism spectrum. Being highly sensitive to physical vibrations isn't uncommon.
Of note, I do not have any other strange or abnormal symptoms occuring at this time.
Truth be told, and in almost all respects, I am a highly sensitive person (H.S.P.) who hears, smells, tastes and feels at a level above and beyond anyone I've ever met. Indeed, I was born that way, with my mind virtually incapable of blocking out external stimuli, so everything comes at me at once. Great in regards to creative pursuits and quick-witted responses, but not so great when a calming peaceful quietness is desired.
So that's where I'm at right now, nearly three days later. I’ve stopped touching her.
But how about this? Could it be her exclusively… might it only be she who generates a type of energy that causes this condition?
What I need to do now (as part of a comparison) is touch somebody else in a similar manner. The problem being, there's no one readily available.
Yes, I could have physically touched the garage door repair people yesterday, but really, how does one do so without seeming downright creepy and intrusive?
I could also roll down the boulevard and touch on some of the homeless folk lingering nearby. I'm sure they are in need of physical touch and / or affection. Perhaps it would work out better if I offered particular individuals $5 to let me physically touch their bare skin (more specifically, their activated muscles). Then again, if I'm going to be handing out money, I could instead simply roll down the boulevard a bit further and go to the local strip club… maybe they'd give me a discount, $20 per touch session. But perhaps strip clubs don't work that way. Many moons ago, and back in the olden days it was the other way around - they touch you, you don't touch them, unless you want the bouncer to bounce you out of the joint.
Eh. Another unknowable unknown with little potential for a proper diagnosis. I suspect the problem will go away on its own. Or instead, I shall go away as a result of this issue. Where would I go away to? That's for the universe to know, and me to find out.
An Open and Shut Door
As I alluded to earlier (in one of the preceding paragraphs), the garage door people finally came out and they finally did something; they repaired the garage door for $600. But here's the problem, they didn't paint the garage door. They explained to me that it would be an additional $450 to do so. And of course, that's not what they told me when they originally came out to give an estimate.
And then, here's the second problem with these garage people. I signed off on the charges, but they double charged me somehow. So now we have to deal with getting a refund.
Just after the garage door people departed, the disability person showed up - the guy who is capable of determining whether or not a stairlift can be installed, which would allow me to go upstairs and downstairs and upstairs again.
The problem being? It's a rather difficult staircase consisting of four 90° angles. And then additionally, the landing is uneven, making it an extremely difficult to transfer for the user. Of course, I am the user. The potential user. And as it turns out, everything is difficult, so I am not surprised.
At this juncture, the disability guy isn't sure this type of stair lifting operation will work within these confines, so I've got to wait additional weeks for an architectural engineer to show up and properly assess the options.
Either way, I'm going to be locked in upstairs for a period of time lasting at least two months, and perhaps indefinitely (if they can't figure out how to work around).
Ramping Up
He also mentioned that placing a ramp leading to the outdoor balcony may not work either. Not enough space. Tough angles. But I've got the wheelchair woman coming next week to make a proper assessment on that issue.
The woman coming out next week is the same woman who originally fitted me for my power wheelchair two years ago. She also visited an additional time in order to make adjustments to the wheelchair after it came off the assembly line.
Back then, I really appreciated her efforts. Not only did she fast track the production of my chair, but she was also extremely personable. As a matter of fact, she physically touched me all over the place while making adjustments to my chair.
No, I hope that doesn't sound creepy, but I really enjoy being the recipient of physical touch, something that's been lacking in my life ever since I became ill. That specific kind of physical sensation makes me feel normal, and wanted (simple incidental contact). And she most assuredly went out of her way to make me feel wanted, which I truly appreciated.
That's one of the things I miss most since leaving the nursing home six months ago. Physical engagement. Emotional engagement. Conversational engagement.
The wife pays attention to me for an hour or two every evening, but I guess sometimes I feel as though I need more than that in my daily life. For some reason I crave novelty, a variety of interactions, the element of surprise, an audience to entertain…
Bottom Lines
Craving causes suffering. Craving results in suffering?
Well, take your pick. But it's true. Both of those. And when I'm craving something, or craving actual life experiences, I am often missing whatever it is that's immediately in front of me. So let that be a lesson to me!
Looks like I've surpassed the 1200 word mark already, so I'll stop writing / dictating into the phone / sharing my super groovy life experiences.
Take care,
Howard
