Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Wanted: Faith, Hope & Healing

There are days where I can hang with the best of them, smiling, laughing and joking. It baffles me that there are days that come which bring me pain, misery, sadness, resentment and sometimes even bitterness. Although it doesn’t last long, these thoughts that fill my mind with negativity just come crashing in like an unexpected tornado. “It’s a bad day”, I’ll tell em’, but more so, it’s a wave of insanity that grips me like a vice and squeezes out any positivity I have left to give or receive.

It’s useless.” Rarely you’ll hear me say this, but on my bad days, you’ll hear these words muttered out as I suck down another chardonnay just to dull the pain. Pain: emotional and physical that takes a toll of my very being. The Vicodin may give me side effects---forget about the wine. That’s healthy, so the doctors say. “It’ll be alright.” my wife tries to convince me as I hold the area of the pain, crunched over in a corner, hoping there will be some relief soon. I’m living my life like a terminally ill patient waiting for God’s pen to imprint heaven’s waiting list with my name...but it never happens. I’m not even that sick, nobody can diagnose me with anything, yet I sit here, rocking, shaking, holding my side as if someone had stabbed me a million times.

“Take the Vicodin.”
"No. I won’t take it until I am exasperated from the pain. I’ll go through the pain."

“This is just gonna pinch for one second.” the 24 year old nurse said as she jabbed a few veins that weren’t visible enough because her rubber band was too loose. “Go away! Get off me!” I screamed, crying in frustration that I’m only 36 years old and suffering as if I were terminally ill. This isn’t fair. “But it can be worse.” Yes. It can...

“We have no diagnosis for the pain.” the doctor tells me as he stares at me, wondering if it’s all psychosomatic. “But it hurts so bad. I can’t sleep, I can’t do anything when I’m like this and it’s ruining my quality of life.” He tilts his head and says, “Here, take the Vicodin, it’ll help with the pain and let you sleep.”

Although the good days outweigh the bad ones, I still suffer through so much pain that seems to be nonexistent to the doctors. A pill cures all. “Take these and call me in the morning.” I’ve been wrongfully diagnosed with tons of things---but they’re baffled now. My only hope of a diagnoses will be this week, to tell me either, #1. that I have gastritis #2. that I have h. pylori that can be treated with antibiotics #3. Stomach cancer. They have taken a few biopsies while they did my endoscopy so I am hoping for a result that can be treated.

So today’s a bad day. I’m not feeling well. I know there will be good days ahead of me. But the more bad days that come crashing through my world, the more depression it leaves me with, depleting any hope or faith I can possibly muster up.
I just want to be okay.