For awhile, it was just an occasional happening, when I still had some hope and tried to be positive for my husband and my children. After my injury – while I went thru it – it was probably every night for 2 months, along with many tears in the daytime. Then, it was just sometimes, praying to God, asking him to guide the Dr’s to what was wrong with me, so they could fix it. All along, it was there, knowing it could not be fixed. Was it better not to know?
Since my diagnosis of Arachnoiditis, it is nearly every night. The shower is my place of refuge, where I can break down and not burden anyone else. Where I can spill my guilt for the things I can no longer do. Where I ponder how I measure each “activity” with the price that will be paid later. I cannot make exception for many things. My family is my most important focus, I cannot spare much, but for them. The shower is where the sobs can flow freely like the water sliding down my cheeks. Where hopefully if anyone enters, they will simply see it as water washing off another day. Where I can grieve over the parts off my life that are lost, where I can hope for a miraculous healing and ask God to place his hands on my unworthy earthly body and make things ok again.
It is amazing how hearing a diagnosis and “there is no treatment, there is no cure” can suddenly send that hope you walked in with hurtling toward a dark abyss you didn’t know was there all along waiting for that knowledge to be revealed. They say knowledge is power, but sometimes it is fear and pain.
That dark abyss of knowing what may lie ahead is scary, it is hollowing. Sometimes I feel so empty inside, it’s like someone drilled out all the joy that laid within. Sometimes I think it is better not to have known, but then, I would still be searching for answers – not knowing that drain was waiting to drag me to the bottom.
When I come to my senses, I know there is still joy here for me. My husband is an amazing man, many would just leave. He takes care of me as promised, he is a rare find in this selfish, hateful, rotten earthly world. I have my 2 beautiful healthy children. I am grateful each day they are safe and healthy. That is enough, these things have to be enough to get me through.
Most anything can make me cry, I am very emotional, very circumspect. I am not who I used to be, I barely recognize myself. My husband says I think too far ahead and worry about things that are too far into the future. Things we do. It even know about yet. That is me, I have always been a planner. I’ve told him, I am just very easily overwhelmed by just about anything now. One extra small task can send my body and mind into panic mode. I feel like the anxiety will swallow me while some days. I tell myself to breathe, one breath, one task, one step at a time and whatever it is will be done. I am never truly alone.
So, I will go to my shower, let the teardrops fall and wash away and expel some of the guilt, anxiety and fear. Pray for another low pain day, where I am able to do small tasks for either myself or my family. It matters to me that I can help, if even in the smallest way.
I pray for my chronic pain acquaintances to be helped, I pray there is a cure in our lifetime. I pray this disease will become the focus of SOMEONE, someone who can help, who will care about those of us suffering day in and day out. I pray I can see the way in Gods plan for me, it is hard to see. And maybe it hasn’t changed, maybe it is still to be here for my family in the ways that I can. I will keep trying for them, I will do my best for them and leave the sobs in the shower as often as I can.