Vantage Point

I’m trying to appreciate my vantage point in life.  Living in desperate, uncontrolled, intractable chronic pain from inoperable spinal tumors certainly makes for an interesting view of the world.  A small world, but my world.  As much as I piss and moan about how demonic this pain is, how horrific the side effects (nothing for me to do about the constipation anymore except that shot developed especially for people who take narcotics for pain) and all the other things associated with it; isolation, inability to get myself anywhere anymore, etc., I would not trade my life for anyone else’s.  That might sound untrue or just plain astonishing (lying to myself, some say) but it is true.  And it’s true for a reason.  A reason discovered from that vantage point to which I referred.

Unable to drive at this time (while they are trying to tricate me up on one drug and down on the other….but doing so in a way that takes one away without replacing it with more of the other, to see how much I need.  But I’ve emailed, left messages and done everything but use a messenger to say I NEED MORE HELP….and got a somewhat admonishing email back that I had to wait until Wednesday), I thought I’d go crazy from lack of something to read.  But I went online and got “Nook on the Web” which is free to join, but of course, you pay for the books.  I have a gift card I haven’t used so I’m using that, and some of the books are free, though not ones I’m interested in.  Also, my brother and sister in law are letting me use their Kindle account, also online.  That helps alleviate the mind numbing boredom that comes between the waves of agony.

Okay, enough drama.  Insight now.  Today, when Pam first came by this morning I was managing okay.  In pain, not able to leave the house, but not in agony.  Then something strange happened.  She went out to get me a few things, including my prescription for lactulose.  On Friday, the hospital called to say they were putting in a request for Resterol, that shot I referred to (and forgive me for repeating part of this).  When I pulled it out of the bag, I was surprised because I didn’t expect to have it in my hands for some time.  But I have never given myself a shot, and did not want to go back to the pharmacy to have them show me how.  There are instructions, and as it turns out, Pam can show me how so I’ll be fine.

HOWEVER, right after I put all the bowel cleansing products away, I saw how much I had and started to panic.  Slipped right out of “be here now” and into “I’ll be somewhere dark and scary very soon and it may be a nursing home”  Ted called me Sunday from the nursing home, and although I love him to death and am forever grateful for our years of friendship, I’ve always been about three to six months behind him with everything so speaking to him makes my pain worse sometimes.  I wanted to avoid that shot at all costs, and I’m still working on it, but I need to have it because I’m not going to the ER again just for that.   Staying in the moment is a hell of a challenge when you are facing what I am facing.

I try so hard not to complain all the time, but I must complain constantly because I am hearing less and less from people.  I ALWAYS ask about them, what’s happening in their lives, the good and the bad, etc.

 I think people feel their problems pale in comparison to mine, but I don’t want people going there.  Everything is relative and our problems are our problems.

Which brings me to why I would not trade my life for someone else’s.  Simply put, I would not do it because it’s mine.  My life, my painting, my experiences, just as those whose lives are a tad less challenging (we all have some challenges, some more, some less than mine….but I don’t  like comparisons) are theirs.  Having stated that, I still wish it were over.  I want to face this with gusto, but I did that for 15 years or so, not including all the years before that were challenging, but not agony.

Blessings