I have a bad feeling they are not going to find out what is wrong with me before it is too late. I never expected to get this ill or become this disabled. I suppose no one ever does.
Though I have been ill off and on since my early teens, there was a cyclical nature to the illness, and so I had some times of vitality and almost normalcy.
Whoever imagined that pain would lead to more pain and that suffering would reproduce itself?
My life is small now. I choose the shortest distance between two points.
I plan nothing before noon.
I plan no more than one day ahead, if that.
I don’t wash my hair as often.
My walks are much shorter.
I leave as much space and time as free as I can.
My handwriting which was never good has devolved into scratches I cannot read.
Pain and suffering do get you in touch with gratitude.
It does make you appreciate the so called small things:
The sound of a bird singing on a snowy day.
The thick frothy milk in your hot chocolate.
A salt caramel square.
A friend who sends a letter.
A friend who calls and says he will schedule his mojito party for whenever you can be in town.
A woman who expertly does a blood draw.
A kind doctor with warmth and intelligence in her eyes.
A patient and organized front desk person.
A song you like, played again.
Time alone, warmth, food.
A loving mate.
A family member with happy news about their life.
The violets peeking up from the ground.
The hyacinth.
You are describing the life I have had for years-at times it improves a little--but mostly not. I have never had your level of pain--well, maybe when my sternum cracked and I was sure the sun had erupted underneath my ribcage or for a couple of years after the attack of the Dodge Ram Assassin and my spine felt like a funeral pyre burning away the last of my vitality. This post makes me so sad for you. What about that neural blocking injection? Or a pain clinic stay? I have heard that Seattle has an excellent Pain Clinic.
ReplyDeleteP.S. Your photos are beautiful.
ReplyDelete