| Sep 23 2011 |
09/23/11
Please, please forgive me, my dearest friends and gentle readers, for this morning--lasting, unchanged by the passing of the day--I again woke out in the kitchen at 10:30, cramped, sore, tired...and to a totallity of Pain so severe, that every exhalation is attended with a moan, part sigh, and part despair.
Bits of memory, thought, feelings, emotions encirlcle me, but so fast, that I cannot grasp even a part of one.
There is not one plce that is not afire in agony, from my scalp, that hurts in an alien way so that it does not even feel like my hair; with a pounding,and remorseless pain, so that I can hardly raise my head up, and that changes in my posture affect, bringing with it seering pain.
Oh..my deraest friends, this is a global pain that reaches t the very limits of what I perceive as my body space, but then beyond.
I pain with an animal's pain, that I cannot understand ( only in a kind of abstract, clinical way ), nor do I know how to deal with it, except to throw into its jagged, ravening mouth, handfuls of opiate medication.
I cannot cry; for one I have no tears left for myself, and my eyes already blur from pain, and refuse to focus; I have to touch my glasses justto ensure that they are there.
My neck, shoulders and back are no strong enough to ward of this evil onslaught.
I want nothing to eat, for the concurrent nausea. Even my legs feel alive, insettled, and 'crawling' as if full of worms.
I feel fully the weight of my years, I am alone...no one calls, nor stops by; I realize they have their own lives. Besides..they cannot in their experience even partially understand me.
My poor dog is quiet, near me, unable to understand the aura that is agony, yet, in her support, she stays near me. I only want this pain to go away, even as I reel--helplessly--before it the depth and breadth of it.
Oh, my sweet Savior come down from the cross, please help me; pease send your angels to rescue me, as now, I am gripped by a depression so calculatedly intense, that I am looking down a black Hole of nothingness, down into a pit of what must be Hell,
and, I long for my mother and father, for their kisses, and embraces and for their long arms that--outstretched--encircled me, and made everything 'alright'.
For...whether you may realize it not, you, my dearest friends and readers at MGJunction are my motive force; in your kindness, and encouragement, and support, it is YOU who help give me meaning and purpose; you have ever been most remarkable, in that--while doubtless, you are in pain--yet, you take your time, and effort to reach out to me, which I value as nothing less than miracle.
And for which, my most dear friends, and readers, you have my heart, and my undying gratetude.
Even as I most sicerely hope that my pain ebbs, although the depression may well remain until it cycles out of me, it nevertheless has always been my goal to try to help you, and to never lie to you.
Among the other, fleeting feelings that flew about me this morning, and, have continued to do so this afternoon, is a fragment of a song I once sang in college, in 1976.
It is from an Operetta entitled, "The Bohenian Girl", by M. Balfe, written, perhaps, around 1847, t wit:
The heart bowed down by weight of woe.
to weakest hopes will cling.
To thought, and impulse, while they flow
that can no comfort bring, that can, that can'no comfort bring.
To these exciting scenes will blend,
o're mem-ry's pathway thrown.
For mem'ry is the only friend
that grief can call it own....
that grief can call its own...
that, grief, can call...its own.
It is a very sweet, and melancholy song, one which--should you have time--will look up on You Tube some of Balfe's other songs from that Operetta are as equally full of meaning.
And so...my ever dear, and gentle readers, in asking you to please forgive me, please allow me to close for now; forwhile it is now afternoon, I took double the dose of my medications, and am growing sleepy, having been exhausted all the night through, in fighting this pain, and depression, and simply want to eat a little something...anything, and in taking yet more medication, want most to severely return to bed.
For outside, the day is a gloomy as is my mood, and it threatens to rain on and off all day; I thank God that I have a roof over my head, food in the house, a dear dog, 'Daisy', who only realizes that something, showhow is wrong, covers sufficient to warm me from these chills, and...dear friends like YOU, at MDJunction, who probably know me, better than I know myself.
and, it is to you, that I so fervently wish for pain-free, wonderful days, quiet evenings, and nights of blissful, untrammeld sleep, far, far and away from the evils that so often plague us, attended by sweet and loving angels.
all my love, from an heart that is both pure and true, 'Zahc/Charles'
Please, please forgive me, my dearest friends and gentle readers, for this morning--lasting, unchanged by the passing of the day--I again woke out in the kitchen at 10:30, cramped, sore, tired...and to a totallity of Pain so severe, that every exhalation is attended with a moan, part sigh, and part despair.
Bits of memory, thought, feelings, emotions encirlcle me, but so fast, that I cannot grasp even a part of one.
There is not one plce that is not afire in agony, from my scalp, that hurts in an alien way so that it does not even feel like my hair; with a pounding,and remorseless pain, so that I can hardly raise my head up, and that changes in my posture affect, bringing with it seering pain.
Oh..my deraest friends, this is a global pain that reaches t the very limits of what I perceive as my body space, but then beyond.
I pain with an animal's pain, that I cannot understand ( only in a kind of abstract, clinical way ), nor do I know how to deal with it, except to throw into its jagged, ravening mouth, handfuls of opiate medication.
I cannot cry; for one I have no tears left for myself, and my eyes already blur from pain, and refuse to focus; I have to touch my glasses justto ensure that they are there.
My neck, shoulders and back are no strong enough to ward of this evil onslaught.
I want nothing to eat, for the concurrent nausea. Even my legs feel alive, insettled, and 'crawling' as if full of worms.
I feel fully the weight of my years, I am alone...no one calls, nor stops by; I realize they have their own lives. Besides..they cannot in their experience even partially understand me.
My poor dog is quiet, near me, unable to understand the aura that is agony, yet, in her support, she stays near me. I only want this pain to go away, even as I reel--helplessly--before it the depth and breadth of it.
Oh, my sweet Savior come down from the cross, please help me; pease send your angels to rescue me, as now, I am gripped by a depression so calculatedly intense, that I am looking down a black Hole of nothingness, down into a pit of what must be Hell,
and, I long for my mother and father, for their kisses, and embraces and for their long arms that--outstretched--encircled me, and made everything 'alright'.
For...whether you may realize it not, you, my dearest friends and readers at MGJunction are my motive force; in your kindness, and encouragement, and support, it is YOU who help give me meaning and purpose; you have ever been most remarkable, in that--while doubtless, you are in pain--yet, you take your time, and effort to reach out to me, which I value as nothing less than miracle.
And for which, my most dear friends, and readers, you have my heart, and my undying gratetude.
Even as I most sicerely hope that my pain ebbs, although the depression may well remain until it cycles out of me, it nevertheless has always been my goal to try to help you, and to never lie to you.
Among the other, fleeting feelings that flew about me this morning, and, have continued to do so this afternoon, is a fragment of a song I once sang in college, in 1976.
It is from an Operetta entitled, "The Bohenian Girl", by M. Balfe, written, perhaps, around 1847, t wit:
The heart bowed down by weight of woe.
to weakest hopes will cling.
To thought, and impulse, while they flow
that can no comfort bring, that can, that can'no comfort bring.
To these exciting scenes will blend,
o're mem-ry's pathway thrown.
For mem'ry is the only friend
that grief can call it own....
that grief can call its own...
that, grief, can call...its own.
It is a very sweet, and melancholy song, one which--should you have time--will look up on You Tube some of Balfe's other songs from that Operetta are as equally full of meaning.
And so...my ever dear, and gentle readers, in asking you to please forgive me, please allow me to close for now; forwhile it is now afternoon, I took double the dose of my medications, and am growing sleepy, having been exhausted all the night through, in fighting this pain, and depression, and simply want to eat a little something...anything, and in taking yet more medication, want most to severely return to bed.
For outside, the day is a gloomy as is my mood, and it threatens to rain on and off all day; I thank God that I have a roof over my head, food in the house, a dear dog, 'Daisy', who only realizes that something, showhow is wrong, covers sufficient to warm me from these chills, and...dear friends like YOU, at MDJunction, who probably know me, better than I know myself.
and, it is to you, that I so fervently wish for pain-free, wonderful days, quiet evenings, and nights of blissful, untrammeld sleep, far, far and away from the evils that so often plague us, attended by sweet and loving angels.
all my love, from an heart that is both pure and true, 'Zahc/Charles'
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