My pain is what Hell must feel like. Pulling me apart inside out. Burning, pounding, stabbing. http://www.healthcentral.com/chronic-pain/c/create/Feeling there should be a pool of blood swelling round my feet. My head explodes like a meteor smashing into the ground, making a tremendous, thundering noise. Noise like no other you've heard. Ripping apart the earth and all that had dwelled there since the beginning of time. How is it the body can swell with pain of such magnitude that you're sure you'll die. Yet you aren't allowed that reward. You're left to deal with the never-ending relentless abyss of anguish. People who see you have no idea that you're twisting and turning with a monster inside of you. That it envelopes you and every move you make. You try to think, to open your eyes, but your head is sure to collapse should you move even a millimeter. I'm sure this is Hell, my cross to bear. No one can see, so they do not believe. Doctors are an evil joke, the villian. You wish you could touch them, passing yourself into them, so they can experience what your every minute consumes. Let them be blessed with my demon for just a week. Ha! They would curl in a corner, crying out "But I didn't know, take it away". Only now you've my curse, take it to the grave with you, only in death will you be free. But I have prescription drugs for you, yet there aren't enough to drown out the drilling, suicidal pain that is you. The drugs must be limited for you may become addicted. Lest I be without this dreadful state of being, addicted to something that works a short time. It would be easier to become a whore to the drug pimp on the street corner. Let me drift away to a land of nothing so I can keep on living. What irony. Does no one see or care? I must hide my pain with something other than my true being fearing I would scare away those who see me naked. My pain bursting forth like a contorted circus clown, scaring babies into tears, children running for the consolation of their parents. Not knowing what terrible thing I must have done to be in this condition, one of millions like me. There is no recognition for us, we must be silent and on the sly. No one wants to know of us, for we may pass something onto you. All I ask is for the ability to sleep through a single night and in the waking hours to know what it is to laugh again. For even that gesture creates the feeling that my face is ripping apart. Words continue to describe my despair, but to what end? That I be taken seriously and something be done? Maybe in the next lifetime. But not today, nor tomorrow. This is my curse.
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living with chronic pain
Posted 11/23 Comments (0)
It is hard to live with pain meds will not stop the...
