celticfife's Journal

Someone puts out a lit cigarette on my retina.  Alien strobe lights attack with guided-missile accuracy. Laser beams hold my gaze. No gentle, comforting looks that sustain the prayer that pain is temporary. Only searing brightness that pushes beyond where sight originates from.

I am a hobo being kicked upside the head in a fight over my cardboard box. Weekly I am tossed out of my body, my life - and am left numb, confused and in the cold. Arms and legs refuse to cooperate. An alcoholic who never touched the booze, a stomach doing flip-flops, never knowing when it is safe to eat. The room spins as if the gods above decided I were a top to spin for amusement, to knock into walls, to sink in feebly at the knees. I depend upon strength that leaves me. I depend upon knowledge that my mind forgets. And even if the knowledge remained reliable - what may come to the mind, may camp out on the tip of the tongue while antonyms, synonynms and homonyms spurt forth in abundance, each utterance confusing the listener and frustrating the speaker.

A child who is sick craves the feeling the cold side of the pillowcase can bring, but any touch to the wrong side of my head sends ripples of needle-sharp pricklings along the skin. To brush a hair away, to brush a tear away is an exercise in piercing the spirit. My scalp is an embroidery pattern of brilliant dyed silks, mixed with stained-glass being pelted by rain. Lead-lined indigoes and blues etched underneath eyes that can't find the sleep that would bring release. Tears beat against the glass which is tempered by fire and time, permanently placed shards.  The embroidery cross-stitches across the temple, inching forward to hopefully sew eyes shut one day - sealing out the throb. 

We wait, patiently and impatiently as hours, years, and decades of treatment go by. And  swallow tablets, capsules, liquids - apply gels, ointments and patches, have needles injected into muscles and nerves. Neurologists, rheumatologists, pain specialists, therapy for the body - the mind - the workplace and home. We chase relief in this way - hoping to catch it by the hand, dance with it, woo it, court it - ask it to marry us. Relief is a blessing, a prayer, a hope. It is something we have to have the balls to go after, as we learn soon enough that no one will advocate for us but ourselves. Advocate has become my vocation. When you play this role well, not only do you learn - but you have the amazing opportunity to share that knowledge with others.