“Pain is such an uncomfortable feeling that even a tiny amount of it is enough to ruin every enjoyment.”
Today I woke up too early. It was 7:00. I pushed away the alarm clock (my husband) and tried to snag an extra 15 minutes. I made it 12.
I took my shower and headed out to the doctor. This was the fifth doctor I have seen in two months in an attempt to find the cause of my abdominal pain. So far it isn't my gull bladder, endometriosis, fibroids, a cyst, a blockage in my intestines, Diabetes, Hypoglycemia, a kidney infection or anything they can pinpoint.
The Gynecologist said "It's not gynecological", the Gastroenterologist says "It isn't gastrointestinal". The Primary Care doctor says "It isn't normal." I'm just waiting for them to tell me "It isn't anatomical".
Whatever it is, it's beyond irritating. Worst of all, after they poke and prod and stir up the pain they don't give me anything to decrease it or even validate it at all. They just scratch their heads, make notes on their laptop computers and send me off with a referral to another equally clueless physician.
I'm tired of this. I want the GREAT Physician to do his work and erase all the need for fallible human evaluation. I pray. I hope. I take the medications I have and I wait for an answer. In the meantime I hurt.
So I came home exhausted and sore and pretty certain that I would never get the answers I need to make this pain go away. I came in to find my son having fits about cleaning. The house was messy and you know what . . .I'm just too sore to care. But I do care. I just don't want to.
So here I am. I've finished work and I'm chilling on the couch with my laptop sitting on my green lap desk.
I feel guilty because the house is a mess, but I don't want to clean it.
I want to play with the kids, but I know I can't run or keep my energy up long enough to complete anything impressive.
I'm full of excuses. Excuses that other people in the house don't understand because it doesn't hurt them to breath or stand or shift positions.
I look lazy, but my mind doesn't stop. I read. I write. I watch. Everywhere around me life is happening.
In four hours we'll light our Shabbat candles and the guilt will go away. I'll be "off the clock" and work will be impossible. I'm ready for that.