Crying Pain – Reflections

crying

Crying Pain

In the middle of the night I called one of my closet friends. A true friend, one I consider a brother. My friend drove me to the hospital, quickly we got a room and my pain inched forward in intensity. At its peak I was crying, clutching my chest and losing awareness of anything other than the agony.

I had no fear, I knew only pain.  All my energy focused to meditate, succumb and manage the pain. It so was incredible, a pain equal to the greatest pain I’d ever felt.

With each slight breath, my world was hammered with impossible pain. Every single breath was the worst imaginable. I gasped for air, moments I tried to hold my breath to find a reprieve, but a deep breath followed and my hell increased to something beyond imagination. Pressing my hand into my pec muscles I tried to massage near the pain, perhaps interrupt its signal, as much as I tried, it did nothing, the pain was deep, under my ribs, around my lungs.

It was intense, so terrible, but I can only imagine my friend’s horror, watching hopelessly as I writhed in agony. The torture of wanting to do anything, but knowing he could do nothing.

Another friend visited, fed me some biscuits and gravy and drove me home. We had a heart to heart, one with love and hope.

After getting home I discovered shut eye. When my eyes closed, nightmares snuck into the darkness of my eyes, hunted my heart and captured my soul. Some terrors were of the hospital, the island of my ex, and horrors in between. The dreams were full of screams, fear and pain, cries and pleas.

I woke to a softened lung pain, a light scream. As the specters of my sleep slipped away I discovered a path. One that led me to a door, as I opened it, it transformed how I see myself. Finally I see the good things in myself that I’ve always searched for in others. My heart parts are gooey, glowing with golden light of love, peace and harmony. A place where even the dark parts are lit with the divine light of heavenly energy. 

Links

Harmony – Tree of Life

ochsner

Ochsner

ochsner

Ochsner

We traveled from Saint Louis to New Orleans and stayed at the American Cancer Society’s Hope Lodge.  There is no doubt this place was a godsend, this trip would’ve been impossible without it.

On the first day of scans we tried to find the hospital by following the GPS.  Unfortunately, the city had two streets with almost the exact same name and so we were taken to the other side of the city.  It was frustrating to say the least but we managed to make it to the hospital to get a whole truck load of scans.

Inside of the car it was cool and comfortable, but stepping outside into that muggy air was incredible.  It was strange to go from quasi spring/winter air to the summer heat.  There were stingy and buzzy bugs flying this way and that.  We walked in and registered, they told us to follow the fancy blue line.  It was the guide that would take us to the testing area.  I felt like it was like the yellow brick road, only a different color and much thinner.

They gave me a cool salmon colored bracelet.  It was that fancy stretchy tape stuff, they used it to hold the IV in my arm in place because I have a latex allergy.  Then they gave me my octreotide dose and sent me back into the waiting room to hangout.  For the next hour and a half, I drank pool water flavored beverages until it was time to get tests.   I had some conversations with the locals.  I was attempting to ascertain some good spots to eat fooduals.

Finally, the time came and I headed into the special room and laid on my back in the machine forever.  I surprise myself by the extent that I’ve gotten used to these devices. For the rest of this day and the next I spent a great deal of time in these tubes chilling out to the sound of clicks and pops.  All in all, the time spent getting the scans was quite pleasant.  If there is one thing I must say about Ochsner is that their employees are very friendly.  The hospital was quite pleasant.

Links

New Orleans

Neuroendocrine Specialist

Expectations

 

Damaged – Reflections

damaged

Damaged

My ceiling fan creates a scraping sound as it turns followed by an occasional clink.  The curtain creepily twists and dances to the movement of a subtle wind.  A cold steel vibe swirls and floats through the room.  It’s not the wind, maybe a hallucination from exhaustion, but it’s enough to stir my heart.  Damaged and half painted my ceiling is a water mark of the many things damaged and broken in my life.

Leaning against the wall I attempted to get comfortable.  I felt a sensation that was like many nights after the surgery, it felt like rocks were digging into my back.  This night was a far date from the surgery and was a pain far worse than what I experienced in the jail bed (a bunkbed made of metal) or the ramp bed (a bed Ino broke).  I was without a guide, without a light to see passed the foggy horizon.

My shoulder had been hurting for days.  Tonight, the pain became brilliant, it had blossomed across my back like a beautiful flower.  As it bloomed, the pain stretched to greater depths deep into the roots of my soul.  The numbness crawled deep into my nerves chewing and gnawing until my insides began to scream.

The pillows were slipping between the bed and the wall, making it an uncomfortable sitting arrangement.  I could’ve gotten up, I was uncomfortable, but I wasn’t there to relax, I was there to die.

On my left was an open bottle of Ativan, to my right was a six pack of flavored alcohol.  I chatted on Facebook here and there, every few moments I ate a pill.  These things are easier when you take your time.  Thats what I tell myself, I think it helps fight the survival mechanism, but maybe it’s the opposite.  Once you’re passed the seventh pill the rest just happens.  Its like a flowing river, until all the water has filled a lake, a peaceful, uneventful lake.

I don’t know what happened next, I don’t remember.

My friend got to me before I could drink the alcohol.  I don’t know how fast it would have been, but the breathing would have been over.

Hospital Time

It doesn’t matter where I stayed, because in the state of mind I was in, anywhere would have been hell.  It sounds terrible but I should have drunk the beer, it would have been my cool-aid of choice.

I’m not good when I’m alone and confused especially in a hospital. When I woke up alone, I couldn’t remember trying to kill myself, maybe I did, maybe it just depended on the time.  I didn’t know what was going on, or why it was happening, nothing was familiar.  The room looked like a double wide trailer.  I demanded to know why I was there, maybe they answered, I don’t know.  Nothing made any sense.

In my head, I remember standing on the bed yelling, I doubt that happened.

There is a distinct sensory and visual memory of me ripping out my IV while yelling, when that happened the staff lost their shit. If that really happened then it makes sense why I remember screaming and crying in the fetal position.  There was an old lady lying beside me, comforting me, rubbing my head and arm. I don’t know if that was a person or something they injected me with.

…There is no doubt that I was a terrible guest.

 What now?

I’ve done a few unfortunate things recently, I tried to kill myself, I believe that’s a good indicator that I’m in over my head. You’re not in a good mental state when that happens I think.  I’m so tired of hospitals, but I’m falling apart.  The right thing to do is commit myself.  I’m going to be checking myself into Center Pointe  Hospital tonight.

Links

Clog – Reflections