Meditation on Pain

Pain is universal. One person's pain may be another's agony. We humans cannot measure one pain against another easily. If I have no shoes and you say I should be glad because this person has no feet, does that put shoes on my feet? No, just makes me feel guilty for complaining to you; so I find someone else who will sympathize with me.

So much for meditation. I have fibromyalgia; so pain is a regular feature of my life. I ignore it as much as possible, gripe a little when it's appropriate, and try to sleep well. But, these blasted staples from the gall bladder removal are instruments of hell. Oh yeah, the doctor said, you can take off the bandages Thursday and leave them off. Well, I have six in my navel, and I wear mostly pants/shorts. A button on top of six pointy staples in your skin is a big ouchie. And, my t-shirt snags on them. So I cover them with bandaids...the fabric ones that stretch and give. It's the third day after surgery - I expect resurrection. Aaarrrrrggggghhhh. I sit for a while and when I stand, my insides feel as if I'd glued them together with gorilla glue that expanded to fill the open spaces. Gradually, I straighten up and tear the glue apart while making random noises in deep tones and occasional high-pitched eeeeoooowwwws.

Oh, you can drive on Thursday. Right, Doc. What I most want to do is get dressed in some garment that touches only my shoulders, trudge my way out to the steps and wish for a small hover craft to get me to the car. Once I've arranged my body behind the steering wheel of the Little Red Car, I find that I must fasten the seat belt by pulling it across my body where the staples are lightly covered with bandaids and a long t-shirt that is probably meant for sleeping. Oh, this would be fun. Riding home from the hospital was bad enough with the blasted strap right across my sorest part. Why on earth would I want to do that again. Six staples, mind you.

And, oh yeah, I was brilliant in my hospital room. I pulled all 200 lbs of me up in the bed with my right arm. Needless to say, my ribs hurt, my muscles hurt, and my breathing deeply in impaired from that little stunt. Turning over in bed is now a major effort. And, the soreness inside from the surgery has abated greatly.

And, TMI, bowel movements are much to be desired. The nurse suggested lots of water, and milk of magnesia tomorrow.

I want a Coca-Cola, cold, with flecks of ice in it and lots of carbonation. Don't think that's the best idea I could have right now. And, I ask; Could it hurt any worse. Unfortunately, the answer is yes. I know from experience. I tried that yesterday.

However, I have a wonderful mate who has done for me what I cannot do for myself - caregivers are much to be praised...even when they tease you. I have a comfortable bed, two loving cats who have managed not to hurt me even though one of them sleeps on top of me. I have loving friends who send me emails and cards, and even one who sent flowers - gorgeous Gerber daisies - red with deep green foliage around them. I put the balloons on the mantle so the cats wouldn't play with them, but the daisies are closer for enjoyment.

Pain. Constant pain can drive people crazy. Temporary pain is to be gotten through and overcome. Like when you want a popsicle and you don't want to ask your mate to get it for you.

Goodnight. Headed slowly for the fridge.