Saved by Dog Slobber

I continue to worry about my poor husband. He longs so for a release from his pain and a renewed strong sense of self-worth. The continuation of his chronic pain is truly debilitating for him. He admits the internal rage bubbling for a release, begging for a burning bush appearance of Christ to still his soul. The ballooning symptoms of his brain injury create havoc throughout his body. Many of the limitations are not readily apparent to bystanders, making their power multiply exponentially in his mind.

Meanwhile, I’m creaking (I did mean creaking, not creeping) around the house in search of some magic button to zap my pain away and my brain back. The cooler fall weather begs for people to come outside and enjoy, but the barometric changes send shudders down my spine. Walking is more difficult. It would be so easy to while away the day in bed, but I force tired bones to move each day. I honestly feel that a can of WD 40 would prove immensely beneficial if I could just figure out how to spray inside my joints, under my layers of untoned flesh.

My neurostimulator surgery has been pushed back until November 11 due to a conflict with the surgeon. It’s kind of important for him to be there, so I guess that means showing my unlimited supply of patience. Now it also isn’t planned until 3:00 in the afternoon, obviously proving they haven’t seen me fast for that long. This procedure has already been postponed for three and a half years, what’s another nine days.

God has made us each unique and even created our bodies in a one-time only mold. Each person confronts and handles chronic pain in his/her own way. God added a giraffe moment by also changing our feelings and emotions on a daily, or even hourly, basis. Bob and I try to balance each other off by showing support to the person who requires help at that time. Trouble brews when we both have slipped off that mountain cliff and are stuck down in some dark crevice.

Earlier this week, I was determined to show my tough nature to the world as I braved the physical body elements and prepared to make a dinner AND dessert. The new kitchen was developed to help hurdle our disabilities, but we forgot to install a cheat button. I want the George Jetson kitchen where you only need push a button and specify your request for a delicious meal that then comes flying out the dispenser. My body fades faster than I like. By the time our meal was prepared, my body hurt too much to eat. However, that leaves more for Bob, so I guess that isn’t totally wrong.

I should film Bob and I during one of our double “episodes”. Our home is arranged so I can slide some table or tub to Bob to help him rise from the floor. We’ve learned that when I try to be more physical in assistance, I end up similarly sprawled on the tile. We know many of the triggers that start spinning my vertigo out of control, but I often remember them after the fact. It looks a little like this: Bob falls, I hear the thud, I turn to see him checking out the floor, my quick turn flips on my vertigo, I fall on top of him, Einstein races to us thrilled that we are joining him on his level and covers our crimson faces with kisses. We might start feeling discouraged and angry, but those canine smooches magically transform us into laughter. We’re blessed to have each other. Nobody else would really understand. Life together is good!

God Uses Chronic Pain to Prove that Life is Good:

     -  A loving pet’s slobber has medicinal value for physical, emotional and spiritual status.