Pain

I am in bed assessing how I feel. Last night was rough. Pain makes me throw up. I know this from migraines, childbirth, an eight millimeter kidney stone, and this recent gum surgery. But there is actually something worse; my body’s reaction to pain medicine. I cannot handle it all and I will throw up and be violently ill for hours. I was toughing this out with ibuprofen and Tylenol, but after five days of being more or less miserable I took one prescription pain pill. Forty minutes later, I was dizzy I couldn’t make it up the stairs.

My son said he was an expert at helping old lady bones. I think it was a joke, but I was concentrating on not hurling until I made it to the bathroom. I DID not want to clean up my own mess. Shayne, who more or less has been inattentive to my illness, all of sudden grasped my acute pain. He got me into bed, then got his computer and headphones and made himself a home on the couch on the other end of the attic. On my trips to the loo, he would have water, cool clothes, a hand to help me up.

I did go to sleep eventually, but I woke up to a man shouting. It was Shayne. I called out to him and he apologized. He said, “I am just talking in my sleep. The voices are never gone.” Sometimes he scares me, but mostly he makes me sad. He is doing his best.

I have to go back to the periodontist for a wound check today. And even though I haven’t been up yet, I am still super dizzy. I probably have a million typos. I’d like to take a shower, but what if I get in there and pass out? I am not going to let my son find me naked. That’s too traumatizing for anyone. I could take a shower in my clothes? That seems counter productive. Speaking of that, Shayne hasn’t changed out of his Russell Wilson jersey since the Packer game. He says he has to wear it so they keep winning. That’s a problem that I can’t think about right now though.

He lost his car keys last week. I can’t really help him look, but for the life me I don’t understand our key problems. The house is clean and we don’t have clutter, so I don’t even know. I made him empty out the trash can yesterday, so at least I know they won’t be in a landfill somewhere. But he can’t drive a stick, and I can’t drive when I can’t walk, so I had to ask for a ride.

Here’s the thing though. I hate asking for help. If I ask, believe me, I have tried thinking of every option first. I am grateful that I have the kind of friends and family who show up. And maybe that’s the lesson in all this, let the village in. So I am going to try to get up, and get to my appointment and hope the corner to healing is right up ahead. If anyone wants to drop off a cheese pizza for Shayne or maybe some soup, I wouldn’t say no.