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Wednesday, December 31, 2014

One Year Ago Today

It was a year ago today that I had to put Oliver down.  It still feels like yesterday.  I still miss him terribly sometimes. He used to sit on top of the couch looking over my shoulder while I read.  He comforted me when I was having a really bad pain day, slept with me with a paw over my arm, and licked away my tears (usually if there was a smudge of food on my cheek).

I cannot believe how fast time wizzes by.  Faster and faster, it seems.  I still see you, Oliver.  I still feel you and think about you and wonder how you are doing, wherever you are.  As it is with my human friends and family, it’s hard to believe there is now just nothing left.

Sir Oliver




Sunday, December 14, 2014

Who By Fire

I've been bad about writing for a long time.   I want to post positive, upbeat things to encourage those with the challenge of chronic, intractable pain that cannot be controlled.   I've got a surgery scheduled for the end of January and I'm terrified it won't make any difference.   NF is ruthless, unforgiving and beyond challenging.   I struggle constantly to make sense of it; whether or not there is a G-d or if everything is just random good or bad luck.   Anyway, I've been working on this stream of consciousness poem (it was stream of consciousness but I tweaked it) below:

The day will come when lights are low and all I’m breathing in will go
Then to this world I’ll bid goodbye and hope you know I did, I tried
I fought like mad against the pain that seared right through, all grip all gain
I’ve often left it through my mind in search of comfort hard to find
Precious pain-free moments heaven, pain dips down from 10 to 7
Music, oils and meditation, seeking comfort, speculation
Surgery is my last hope to find relief whatever scope
If that bid fails no option’s left, I do not meet the standards set
for helping those in mortal pain but no “by when” date, what a shame
A life of pain with no conclusions, no longer clutching doped delusions
of hope that pain will end in time, to have a life out of this bind
I know they have to draw the line on who to help but what a crime
Left alone to make a choice, take the action, use my voice
But “what if’s” haunt as much as pain, the list is long as is the strain
of questioning why I’m here, is there a G-d and is He near?
Or was my birth and shattered gene, just a crapshoot, not foreseen?
If that’s the case why wait around just pack my bags and leave this town
But if there is some truth to learn, then patiently I’ll wait my turn?
and live in torturous, intractable pain, it’s hard to believe this was ordained
One thing is true, for this I pray, to not return to Earth one day
And when it’s time and lights are low, all my breathing in will go








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