It’s another typical Sunday
evening with little happening in our home. My hubby made a great dinner of
small meatloaves, easier to manage on my goal to lose some weight. (I’m hoping
to drop 50 pounds by the time my eight boxes of Girl Scout cookies arrive next
month.) Bob and I both have taken turns this weekend by heading to our bed in
the hopes of eliminating, or at least reducing, some of our pain. Bob is sore
from hard work in the garage for his buff body isn’t used to such exercise. We
hope to get it organized before the boys graduate from college. My pain is my
head. The migraine is up to the “hate the light, hate the noise” stage. Aren’t
we a barrel of fun?
This repeated scenario
frustrates us both since once again we were unable to attend church services
despite our best-laid plans. Watching Bob attempt to walk three steps made it
pretty apparent that he wasn’t going anywhere today. My headache always worsens
after attending a church service, and I couldn’t fathom the pain increasing any
more. Instead I went to a Personnel Committee meeting figuring at least I could
serve our congregation. I don’t know how to partake in the actual worship
services. Our organ is fabulous, but the strong resonance of the music echoes
inside my skull. (Please no wisecracks about my empty head!) Bob had me try
Boss headphones, but they made it worse by developing a vacuum in each ear. (Since
I lack homemaking skills, I need no vacuums within 321 feet of me let alone
inside me.) I’ve developed a private place to listen to the service, but
countless people come up to check on me or let me in on friendly chatter.
Either one surely interrupts my worship. Bob feels he needs to stay with him,
but then he gets no value from the service either. Woe is I. (I wanted to type
‘woe is me’ but my computer’s spell-check wouldn’t let me.)
My procedure is slated for
Thursday and my body is beginning to clench and cramp in anticipation. I
normally am not bothered by surgeries, but I am not looking forward to the
whole cutting a piece out of my bone. I know my job is only to sleep and an anesthesia
will help out on that. My task should only be to wash my body with this weird
soap and use no lotions. I also can’t use deodorant from now to then so you
might not want to come visit me.
So you my lucky readers
have three tasks. Aren’t you the lucky reader?
1.
Provide relief for chronic
pain. This probably will even lead to big bucks for you, so your time will be
rewarded if you figure this out.
2.
Develop a bubble of some sort that allows me to
partake in worship services. I envision a large hamster ball that won’t be
noticeable to the rest of the congregation. I will let you experience it on
some large hill if you are successful. A shopping experience or retail therapy
in the mall could be very interesting.
3.
Say some prayers!
I hope you all have a great week. Talk, or rather write, to
you later.
God Uses My Chronic Pain to Spread the Word that Life is
Good:
- The word will really
spread if the world sees me in some big hamster ball while shopping for my
grandsons.
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