I'm Mad

I’m mad! In fact, I am downright angry! There are times when my blood boils in my veins, ready for a rupture as my pain continues to wrack my body. I’m mad that my vertigo has me hanging onto furniture or grabbing at the floor as the scene flashes by my face. I have to shout anyway to be heard over this tinnitus still ringing in my ears. I long to bash my head against the wall, hoping to reduce the pressure that’s squeezing life out of my skull. I’m mad that I’m stuck at my home, ruling out galas with my family, trips with my friends, even a walk with my husband. Plans are forgotten because I simply can’t stand up. Tears roll down my face in the heat of this internal fight.

I don’t get this angry very frequently, but I must describe the hidden scene at least once if this blog will openly describe the actual life of a person struck with chronic pain. I’ve omitted this depressing description as if such an omission will adjust how you readers feel about me. Did it work? I fear that my image is crumbling as the pain tightens around my skull. Honesty is so hard. I’ve secluded the truth behind jokes of my bumbling character rolling down life’s path.

Several months ago, plans were made of a girl’s weekend in Nashville. It’s an opportunity for a group of peers from high school to gather together and share our stories. I haven’t seen or talked with most of these females in close to 40 years. Through Facebook, participants were added to a weekend of memories. This special reunion will float past my grasp because I’m anchored to my home. The distance is too far and my falls too frequent. I can’t go!

When I miss different gatherings of friends, the anger at the omission of my attendance is not fully complete. I get mad at the chains of pain tightly holding me in place at my home rather than the actual missing of one specific event. I don’t like being told what to do. I want my freedom. Another wave of vertigo splashes against me, making me clutch the cushion so I’m not knocked to the floor.

Generally, this rage doesn’t flame out of control. I’m able to peak at my home between the fingers holding my head in place. I hear my husband hovering nearby. Even good ol’ Einstein rushes to my side, eager to protect me from the hidden evils. I have so many blessings; it would be ridiculous for my own anger to submit to further attack against my frame.

I love my bed. Feeling a clean sheet gently cover my body is wonderful. There is almost an impression on my section of the couch, the location of my frequent slumped frame. My kitchen shelves have lots of hidden calories to further enhance my round frame. Many people would answer my call for love with physical, spiritual and emotional support. Life is good.

So my regrets go to Tammy. I’m sorry I won’t see Kathy or Cheryl. Neighbors Andi and Debbie will have to wait for now. You’ll find me at my home, at best scrounging the surroundings for hidden geocaches. I’ll get to Skype the grandsons and hopefully even get sightings of my son-in-law and daughter too. My husband remains at my side as we attempt to hold each other up in all means possible. My eyes close and I feel a quilt of prayer gently fall upon my shoulders. Many requests are made each day to our loving God which I know little about; I feel the love and prayers of others silently envelope me.

I thank each of you who read these words. Your commitment to this blog provides me with strength to fight that anger from bubbling out of control. You don’t need to leave a comment, but please drop me an email if these words touch your soul. You give me the peace that helps me deal with my aches and pains and more.

Benefit of Having Chronic Pain Prove that Life is Good:
- You have time to feel the prayers seep through your pain.