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06/28/13
To my very, dearest friends, and constant, loyal readers,
Please, please
forgive me, my dearest friends and gentle readers, for this morning--lasting, unchanged
by the passing of the day--I again woke cramped, sore, tired...and to a
totality of pain so severe, that every exhalation was attended by a moan…part
sigh, part despair, and what I can only try to describe to you as an, ‘unbearable
emptiness of being’.
Bits of memory,
thought, feelings, and emotions encircled me, but so fast, that I could not
grasp even a part of one.
There is not one
place that is not a fire 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 searing pain.
Oh...my dearest
friends, there is a global pain that reaches to 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 just to ensure that they are there.
It is perhaps an odd
contemplation, but, Dr. Minowski (my Retinologist) stated that—in having for
the most part blurred and slurry vision in my left eye, that—now—both eyes are,
‘fighting’, for ascendency, and for the brain’s sole attention, which should
pass…in time.
My neck shoulders and
back are not strong enough to ward of this evil onslaught.
I want nothing to
eat, for the concurrent nausea.
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.
I do give pyrrhic
thanks to the Creator that various persons have been inordinately kind to me;
as you know, I have been completely broke the better part-now-of three
weeks. A wonderful neighbor has been
bringing supper over to me in the evening, lest I in fact starve. And they—too—are
scratching gravel, trying desperately to, “make ends meet.”
This is a phrase that
has always made me laugh, as what ends—exactly—are we referring to? And it has
been my experience that too often, the, ‘ends’, cannot be joined together, and…in
fact, are probably not speaking to each other!
My poor dog is quiet,
near me, unable to understand the aura that is agony in her own body, much less
that which is in mine; in her support, she stays near me. I only want our pain
to go away, even as we both reel--helplessly--before it the depth and breadth
of it.
Oh, my sweet Savior
come down from the cross, please help me; please send your angels to rescue us,
as now, I am gripped by a depression so calculatedly intense, that I am looking
down a black Hole of nothingness.
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'.
Whether you may
realize it not, YOU, my dearest friends and readers at MDJunction 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, distress, or despair, as fully great, or even
greater than my own--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 gratitude.
Even as I most
sincerely hope that my pain ebbs, although the depression may well remain until
it cycles out of me, it nevertheless has always been my most fervent hope that
your pain ebbs as well; my goal is ever 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 Bohemian Girl", by M. Balfe, written,
perhaps, around 1847, to 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,
ore memory’s pathway
thrown.
For memory is the
only friend
that grief can call
its 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; for while 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.
Outside, the day is a
hot, humid, like trying to gasp for breath in a sauna, and it—too—affects my
mood, and it threatens to rain later, well-into the evening; I thank God that I
have a roof over my head, a dear dog, 'Daisy', who only realizes that
something, somehow 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 so, it is to you,
that I so fervently wish for pain-free, wonderful days, quiet evenings, and
nights of blissful, untrammeled sleep, far, far and away from the evils that so
often plague us, attended by sweet and loving angels.
Please know that I think
of you often, keeping you close to my heart, and please, please know that I
love you dearly!
'Zahc'
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