Today I am going to wallow.
Today I am going to stomp my feet and scream.
Today I may even throw things and swear.
Today I am going to weep uncontrollably.
Today I am going to be mad at God for giving this to me in the first place. I know it is wrong to question why, but I am human and I sometimes wonder what I did to deserve this. I even think his stupid golden rod is beautiful. Other people dread its arrival, it being the messenger of fall hay fever. But me, I think it is beautiful. Its sunny gold is magnificent late on a glorious fall afternoon, which by the way, I also love. Others might think goldenrod a mistake. I think it is beautiful.
I no longer want to feel broken, this mean disease chiseling away at bits and pieces of me until there is little of me left.
I want to wake and look forward to the day ahead. I want to yawn and stretch as I admire the sunlight trickling in between the slats of the blinds. Instead, I wake up dreading the day, wondering if the tasks I am expected to complete will be more than I can physically or emotionally conquer. I want to roll over and go back to sleep. I am afraid to stretch. Having a doctor tell you that your most recent symptoms may be a sign of a lesion on your brain stem affects your every thought and every move. What if I stretch too far? What if I sneeze too hard? What if this is the day that I can't walk or talk or possibly breathe?
[The newest She-Neuro from Cleveland Clinic, thinks it possible that my newest problems, the facial numbness, the muffled hearing, the tingling lips, the headaches, the wiggling/bubbling under my surface and the neck pain may indicate a new active lesion on the brain stem. Not good news at all. What if someone had started treatment on me in September, as soon as I was diagnosed? Could this have been avoided? Now I wait again. The Doctors at the Mellen Center want me to have a new MRI. I can't get it for two more months. Which means I won't start treatment for at least two more months.]
I feel as if I have a concrete block tied around my heart. As if I am sinking under water, drowning in fear.
I'm sitting in the living room. The Christmas tree still stands. It is wrapped in crystal garland. Bright, low winter sunlight is shining through the window and the crystal garland is showering rainbows in the living room and dining room. Beautiful rainbows are frolicking all over the walls and the hardwood floor. Usually, they would bring a smile to my face.
Today, I feel like they are mocking me. I will close the blind.
Tomorrow, I will get up, brush myself off and try and go about living my life.
But today...
Today I'm gonna cry.
Today I am going to stomp my feet and scream.
Today I may even throw things and swear.
Today I am going to weep uncontrollably.
Today I am going to be mad at God for giving this to me in the first place. I know it is wrong to question why, but I am human and I sometimes wonder what I did to deserve this. I even think his stupid golden rod is beautiful. Other people dread its arrival, it being the messenger of fall hay fever. But me, I think it is beautiful. Its sunny gold is magnificent late on a glorious fall afternoon, which by the way, I also love. Others might think goldenrod a mistake. I think it is beautiful.
I no longer want to feel broken, this mean disease chiseling away at bits and pieces of me until there is little of me left.
I want to wake and look forward to the day ahead. I want to yawn and stretch as I admire the sunlight trickling in between the slats of the blinds. Instead, I wake up dreading the day, wondering if the tasks I am expected to complete will be more than I can physically or emotionally conquer. I want to roll over and go back to sleep. I am afraid to stretch. Having a doctor tell you that your most recent symptoms may be a sign of a lesion on your brain stem affects your every thought and every move. What if I stretch too far? What if I sneeze too hard? What if this is the day that I can't walk or talk or possibly breathe?
[The newest She-Neuro from Cleveland Clinic, thinks it possible that my newest problems, the facial numbness, the muffled hearing, the tingling lips, the headaches, the wiggling/bubbling under my surface and the neck pain may indicate a new active lesion on the brain stem. Not good news at all. What if someone had started treatment on me in September, as soon as I was diagnosed? Could this have been avoided? Now I wait again. The Doctors at the Mellen Center want me to have a new MRI. I can't get it for two more months. Which means I won't start treatment for at least two more months.]
I feel as if I have a concrete block tied around my heart. As if I am sinking under water, drowning in fear.
I'm sitting in the living room. The Christmas tree still stands. It is wrapped in crystal garland. Bright, low winter sunlight is shining through the window and the crystal garland is showering rainbows in the living room and dining room. Beautiful rainbows are frolicking all over the walls and the hardwood floor. Usually, they would bring a smile to my face.
Today, I feel like they are mocking me. I will close the blind.
Tomorrow, I will get up, brush myself off and try and go about living my life.
But today...
Today I'm gonna cry.
3 comments:
and today I want to scoop you up in my arms and run with you, through a filed of goldenrod as we tell each other of its beauty. I want to lay you there to rest in its beauty and I want to take from you all your fears and vanish all your pain and I want to stop this MS with my bare hands for having brought you all this grieve and heartache, And I want to ask GOD why, no I want to scold him and be angry with him. And all I can do is pray for you and love you from afar, I do.
LOL, Just so everyone knows, I am not totally insane and writing comments to my own blog. ;) The Carolyn who wrote the comment is another Carolyn entirely. She has been my e-friend for several years now.
Carolyn, Knowing what your family has been through, makes me all the more certain that you know exactly what I am feeling. Thank you so much for your warmth and caring. I will wear it like a blanket around me.
Cari. YEs LOL this made me laugh and through it all you your sense of humor shines...I hope my blanket keeps you warm tonight. And it was good to read that you had a better day today.
Post a Comment