Alright – I nominate the last post as the worst post ever – even worse than some of the ones I deleted which no one ever read because they made very little sense and served no purpose. I’ll leave it up as a warning to myself not to post willy-nilly. All in favor raise your hands… good, everybody agrees. Moving on…
Since I’ve had some lately, I’m going to write about pain. This is not emotional, metrosexual , too-much-time-on-my-hands-to-worry-about-stupid-crap, life didn’t turn out like I wanted it to, getting in touch with my inner pansy pain. Nope. This here pain is sweat on the upper lip, try not to cry out, try not to cry, and try not to have a bowel-movement physical pain. This pain is so physical and real it’s wholesome, I guess, I dunno…maybe I’m delirious. This pain put me in touch with my inner coyote and I would have gladly chewed my leg off to have it stop.
It’s like someone takes a hot curling iron and, from the inside, pushes it against the top of my belly button and then slides it down to the right (my right, not yours). Then it goes away and just when I start to drift off to sleep it’s there again – on and off all night long. I’ve had this three times in the past six weeks. Then two days later I feel pretty good again.
After a CT scan in which I was assured none of my innards have ruptured and that there is no sign of cancer, the emergency room puts it under the umbrella of some type of colitis (huh - there’s more than one, who knew??). They tell me to go to my doctor. Alas, says I, after three and a half healthy decades, I don’t have a doctor. So it’s quick, off to the insurance program list-o-doctors!
Dr. W. is a pretty nice guy, about my age. I’ve met him twice now. The nurse has about four too many tattoos for my liking; she didn’t ask what I thought and as long as she knows her stuff who cares. It’s her skin. So now I wait for the gastro-pokers to let me know when they can fit in me (see what I did there?). Someone said Crohn’s disease, whatever that is. Someone else said irritable bowel syndrome. If that’s an irritated bowel, I’d hate to hate to have one really angry with me. Then again, maybe it’s a worm. Daughter #2 wants it to be worm. I told her that if it is I’ll put it in a jar and save it for her. Someone else said diverticulwhatever... if I can't spell it I won't comment.
In the meantime I’m getting me some nice Tramadol, as needed; whole new respect for people addicted to pain pills, let me tell you.
But getting back to the pain – good gosh-almighty did I want to say some bad words!
Pain puts everything on hold. It demands attention. During this kind of pain it’s nearly impossible to focus on anything else. Pain is selfish. It’s reprehensible to the senses, disturbing, unqualified, and arbitrary. Pains makes a person want to ask, ‘Why?’
Pain makes for a great game of draw-that-non-sequitur. Like, it was the water or it was the pizza or it was when I chewed my big toe-nail with my incisors and everybody knows you’re supposed to chew the big toe-nail with your canines. I’m sure that was it.
Pain turns people into deal makers. What haven’t I signed away? Nothing in writing, but the Lord knows the heart. I also remember promising some of that stuff in the past. I haven’t found the life-equity loan in scripture but I am WAY overleveraged at this point. Besides, it’s His anyway. That’s what pain does. You start haggling like a hoarder at a flea market saving up for the four cases of pristine-condition, new in the wrapper, beanie babies.
Pain, at some point, also involves an element of trust. I have to trust the CT scan and that if this was going to kill me it would have already done so.
I don’t think this type of physical pain is much of a test, nor does it involve courage or fortitude or what ever noble adjective. It’s not like I had a choice. If I had a choice I wouldn’t have done it, but once that particular roller-coaster leaves the loading platform it don’t stop until it stops. Best buckle in.If it’s not a big deal I probably won’t write any more about it. That’s how pain is. When it goes away you don’t want to remember it.