Denial is a powerful drug. It’s my favorite go-to medication in dealing with my back pain. Well, perhaps “dealing” isn’t the right word. The essence of denial calls into question whether anything is actually being effectively dealt with. Avoided? Pretended away? If I don’t acknowledge it it doesn’t exist?
But at some point, it stops working. The “la la la la…I can’t hear you!” becomes faint white noise to the aching that really wants some attention, dammit. And so here I am. Again.
I haven’t really acknowledged to myself yet that I am hurting quite a bit, but all the signs are there. The waking up at 3:00am, the quick brushing off of questions about how I am doing, the hot frustration of having to move around like a woman twice my age, the fear I might collapse into tears if I own up to it. And yes, in the quiet of a house asleep except for me and the newspaper delivery guy, the pain. It’s there and it seems it has something to say.
It’s old. Boring. Exhausting. Inescapable. And seemingly, eventually, undeniable. Dammit.
And Mom, it’s ok. I’ll be fine. Really. It’s just part of the road. But I guess maybe it’s time for a rest stop.
2 comments:
Oh dear, I'm so sorry! What can I say: "Hang in there" sounds a little flat, doesn't it, what else have you been doing all this time? We love you, and if nothing else, your writing has opened my eyes on the day-to-day struggle for people who live with pain. I hope it lets up soon, and I hope we get to see you soon.
Your encouragement is a gift. Thank you. :-)
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