Speechless

There’s just something about the start of a new school year that gets me excited. The distinct smell of playdough, erasers, or cafeteria food. New clothes. New hairstyles. New shoes. School supplies. (Can you say, supply bins at Target?) I love getting a new package of Tropical Vacation Flair Paper Mate pens, to be exact!  Seriously, though, who doesn’t like those?  Seeing young ones anticipate who their teacher will be and parents feeling relieved that summer is coming to an end.  It’s the best.  Growing up I never thought about being a teacher.  My dream was to be on the radio. I wanted to greet everyone in Kansas City with, “Good morning, Kansas City! This is Stephanie G coming to you from LMNOP radio!” As you know, obviously that didn’t work out.  Instead, after a few different career opportunities, I realized teaching was the job for me. I guess I should have known since I always loved the start of a new school year.

August 2016 wasn’t any different, except for the fact I was not feeling the same. My mind was ready, but my body was not.  Nonetheless, I was excited to meet my kids and greet them on the first day of school with a lei on Learning Island.  Never did I ever expect my year to go the way it did.  Throughout the summer, I learned what triggers made my burning worse and spread.  I had an amazing group of kids who understood them and did everything they could to help me.  They did a great job taking care of me by bringing me a crate to prop my leg, staying quiet in the classroom, or running errands for me.  Honestly, they were amazing. Their compassion and understanding helped me get through the first three days of school.

With each day, my pain increased and fewer and fewer of my non-med pain relieving strategies were working.  (Meditating, desensitizing, laying on my side, nerve glides, etc.) It was tough.  I wanted so much to be there and be myself with the kids.  But I knew deep down, my pain wasn’t going to go away.  It hadn’t before now, so why would it magically just disappear?  My hope was that going to school every day would get my mind off the pain. It didn’t work like that, though. I played mind games with myself saying, “It doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t’ hurt.” But it did. Bad.

At the end of each school day, I would leave immediately, go home, take a pain pill and not move much for the rest of the night.  The pain was off the charts. Thankfully, I had time in the summer to make plans for the first several days of school because I did nothing once I got home. Once again, my family was awesome.  They, too, knew my triggers. WEATHER: really?  Isn’t that just a myth? I’m afraid not. CROWDS. STRESS! I’m sure that’s one for all of us. NOISE: hello, I’m loud and noisy. How on earth can that be a trigger? I remember sitting at a restaurant and three tables down a waiter asked another family if they wanted water.  I actually heard the waiter and replied thinking he was talking to us. It was like I was the bionic woman.  (Ooh, that could be my superpower now that I’m not a teacher.  I’ll make note of that.  Stephanie Griesinger, the bionic eared woman!)

Finally, the weekend arrived. I did all I could to rest, relax, feel better.  Nothing seemed to work. But, I still hadn’t lost hope.  It might be tough but more importantly, I knew this wasn’t going to be my forever.  At least that was what I kept telling myself.  Monday morning arrived, I went to school as usual excited to see my kids. That afternoon I had an appointment with the pain doctor.  That’s when he told me something I will never forget.  That something stopped me dead in my tracks. It would affect others. How would this work and how would I tell everyone? Consequently, my heart broke, my head dropped and all I could do was cry.  I left the appointment in a half-conscious state.  I couldn’t find the words to speak. I prayed for strength and for comfort for me and all those this news would affect.