hope
no pain meds, they say. whether from bodily intolerance, or doctoral ignorance, the result is the same.
seconds feel like hours. minutes feel like years. time crawls like a near-death snail. you envy him his pace.
the white lights of the hospital seem to exacerbate the feelings, intensifying the pain and pinpointing the center of your radius...from which the pain expands like light waves, traveling in all directions.
no one can understand the overwhelming sense of your entire body, your entire SELF, being held hostage by this pain. pain - a tiny word for something with such a devastating impact. your self is subsumed by the pain, consumed by it, set afire by its tendrils. the flames of pain lick at your soul, indeed.
as with grief, the only thing that gets you through it is time. your body heals, miraculously, despite having roadblocks thrown up at every nerve and neuron. healing sneaks its way amidst these great barriers, slowly and conscientiously.
then a day comes where you realize that you haven't had such debilitating pain for a few minutes. this is enough to give you hope, to give you a slight breather before it comes back. these times become more frequent.
and slowly, you ease back into the world of the living, with the pain just a dark shadow on your soul, staining it a dark reddish-black hue...just enough to remind you, lest you forget.
copyright 2006, jessica voigts
rate
email
print
link to this page
Comments: 39
Grief pain is a bit different. It gets duller, but it never is really forgotton.
jan - i never forget my pain. it hasn't gone away, but it has lessened. yet the memory of its enormity still tinges my life, as does grief. i know it is different for everyone. that's my experience! thank you.
thanks, nathan! you know me and my camera....:)
thanks, david! yes, i have survived - for which i am glad. i feel so bad for john, going through this now. life is Not Easy.
thanks, liz! yes, it was a cattail fading. i can't get enough of looking at something so simple, so closely. that cattail reminded me of tatters of self, of pain. bleah. good thing life has its ups and downs. if it was all downs, we'd not make it.
thank you, everyone!
thanks, debra! i will never give up hope! life is good, despite the things that roadblock us. i wanted to share some of my hope with john.
May your pain fade away and disappear forever more.
You are precious.
My heart goes out to John, and to you. What is this life all about, when good people suffer?
Beautifully done.
Why has your friend not tried a new doctor??
brilliant writing jessie--
thanks for sharing this with him, and us.
pain does shape you, in incredible ways that you'd never expect. THAT is one meaning of life that no one ever talks about. but it happens to all of us, at some time or another, eh?
Jessie, this was my experience over 20 years of periodic intense headache pain from 1964-1984 and more recently from back pain. I remember writing a poem 35 years ago with the words:
Pain demands the response,
"Me, me, me!"
The physical pain made me cry out, but behind it was a psychological pain of not being all I could be by having to be turned so inward. But the inwardness developed a reflectiveness, and the pain-free times felt so good I could become enthusiastic about life. None of this is to say that pain in itself is good. It served as a lens for viewing and living life.
Jessie, know that I think about you when I'm away from Gather and hope you are having a good day. Now I'll include John in my thoughts.
I just want everyone to know who has included me in their prayers that I got some relief today. I saw the radiotherapist this morning for my upcoming treatment next week. I had a CAT scan, a silicone head and neck mask was made for me to protect me from the throat's daily roentgen doses, and a subcutaneous shot which is still working to dull the dolor. Also, after listening to me describe my disagreeable experience the last few days, he overruled my surgeon and prescribed me tramadol, a stronger pain killer than paracetemol (Spanish tylenol.) So things are a little brighter.
Jesse, your writing again was amazing here. Thank you, thank you, dear friend, for thinking of me!
John, I've been thinking about you every day since I learned that you were to have surgery. I'm sure your recovery will be difficult and you will fight hard. I'm glad that you were finally given something stronger than tylenol. Pain relief is a human right, in my opinion. Of course, I am not a doctor.
Pain has a purpose, they say, and they say we are lucky to feel pain. Without pain, we would have no warning system, the scientists say. But they do not know of how much less of a warning system we could get by on, sometimes.
I wish you out of pain. I wish John out of pain.
My Dad, who passed away years ago, said, and I've never forgotten, "Pain purifies." He wasn't a religious man, but a scientist. Was he speaking about an intense attunement of the spirit?
When we are in pain we pray. We beg. We bargain. We are on the edge of life. And we withstand. Somehow.
Thank you for this powerful, understanding writing on pain...
john - i am SO pleased that you got some meds, and some progress. it is what i've been hoping for, that is for sure! whoo!!! now, on to the next step. :)
you all have such great comments - i'll be thinking of them for a while. thank you!
and a big THANKS!! to steve the legend. cripes, he went through all my articles, from day one. steve - you get the prize. thank you, thank you!! it was so great to read your comments. :)