The Mighty Three are Today's Victor

This blog won’t be listed under the top ten with comedic value. It’s been a rough day for me and dusk is still not here. Please skip this entry if you like to read lighthearted entertainment and find comparisons to your own daily experiences. My intended audience is far different. I need to be able to express my physical sensations to any medical personnel who might find this helpful. I want to write while memory is still somewhat fresh. Some of you have questioned me about the actual physical traits of the Mighty Three. Today is a perfect example of the onset of my handicapping conditions.

I woke this morning with the dread of multiple workers coming to our home. Men were working on some finishing touches in the kitchen and our cleaning lady was soon to cross our threshold. Teresa is super at transforming our home into a more hospitable setting, but I always feel the need to straighten prior to her arrival. I was at my dresser putting away my many jewels when an icy pick was shoved into my head. This dreadful sensation was in my temple near my hairline. I still feel the path it took to kill any positive thoughts for the next few hours.

I immediately fell to my knees. The violent vertigo had entered my soul and I didn’t know what to do. I tried to call to Bob, but my voice was much too feeble. I honestly thought that I was going to quickly die with some sort of hidden brain embolism or another medical horror. I prayed to God for help with the pain as the pick continued to burn inside. Things were spinning with such force; I couldn’t locate the way to my bed mere feet from where I crouched in fear. Bob and I know to travel with a phone and I pushed any button possible in an effort to find him. I needed to tell him that I loved him one more time before I died.

I’m unsure of the length of time I shuddered in a fetal position. My entire body ached due to my inability to stand or move. Bob somehow managed to get me in bed as he fumbled to call someone in my medical team. I could go by ambulance to the hospital, but I knew they would only fill me with strong narcotics that would let me sleep through one more attack, but provide me with no long-term assistance. Neither of us wanted that. The pain doctor on call advised me to see a new neurologist and provided the name to call on Monday.

Bob and I were alone in our bubble of chronic pain, both realizing that there was little either of us could do. My poor husband provided cold cloths as he held my head. He wanted to do more but the phone number with the all the answers continued to elude him. God gave me peace, but the pain still wracked my head and the vertigo sensations had never been as strong. My arms and legs tingled in response to the pain. The weight of the sheet was much too heavy as I remained locked in my bubble. Although serenity blanketed most of my thoughts, I worried what tribulations laid around the corner.

I would be curious for Bob to express his feelings at the time, but those emotions will remain stored inside him. The look in his eyes and gentle words of relaxation finally allowed me to doze. I knew by experience that a migraine would soon engulf me but there was nothing I could do to hide from my future. I tried to sleep because only there could my world be ripped from reality. I can walk in my dreams and run and sit and stand erect. Stuttering is extinct. I clench these moments and grasp for sleep knowing my escape route is hidden when I slumber.

When I finally woke, the vertigo had lessened. A cold emptiness remained where that icy pick had stabbed me. The migraine was coming. I felt its strength increase in each breathe I took, like the ocean tides crashing to shore. High tide would soon be there. I ate some food, quickly heated in the micro, so I could take narcotics and lessen the nausea soon to arrive.

My day was ruled by pain, crushing my sense of being. Nausea and diarrhea soon swallowed my body everywhere except the cold hole in my temple. To touch my hair brought agonizing nerves quickly to center. I felt like a mass of blubber lacking any control or emotion. It was almost like I looked on from above as I shuddered in the bathroom, afraid to move or even breath.

I’m better now. I’m sitting on the couch, my head carefully placed upon the cushion, as I attempt to describe the day. There’s a well-worn path to the bathroom as my symptoms have not totally subsided and my head feels detached while it floats overhead. The narcotics have dulled the pain, but the frosty path of that ice pick still clearly fills my head. I know death is not approaching any faster today than usual. I feel spent and exhausted as the throbbing still continues. The rest of my body is still fighting to not be forgotten. My husband finally dozes, angry at his inability to rid the pain. The need to “do something” is not quenched.

I don’t write this in hopes of sympathy or expressions of awe. These words are honest, expressions previously hidden from others. Doctors have urged me to be open about this part of my life instead of just crazy escapades with the dog or grandchildren. They hopefully will help me describe what happens when the Mighty Three attack my soul to yet another new doctor. God willing, they will spark a new idea so others won’t know by experience how I spend too many days. There has to be some way to reduce the throbbing in my head.

Yet tomorrow will be better. My stomach will still want sympathy, and I will thrill at times outside of the bathroom. An empty ache will fill me, and there’s lots of me to fill. Through it all, God will be with me to hold my hand and protect me from fear. Your prayers will blanket me with tenderness as I slowly return to my usual self.

Thanks for reading these words. It brings me comfort to know that others want to shield me from the Mighty Three. Your prayers will go far in that direction. God bless YOU for your efforts and time spent with me. Just look around the corner to see that life is good.

Ways God Reminds Me that Despite Chronic Pain, Life is Good:
-You receive a sense of serenity when God visits.

Come on people. Somebody out there has to comment. Just click on the title and a box appears.