Pain

Webster's Definition of Pain
Pain: (noun)- acute physical, mental or emotional distress or suffering.

It's a basic summary of a really long and wordy definition, but you get the picture. Pain is something that we all have in common. We may not have all experienced the same pain, but we know what is and feels like and we generally try to avoid it at all costs. I've seen some of my friends suffer from miscarriages, the loss of a child or parent. There have been divorces, broken legs, car wrecks, hurtful gossip among friends. A person doesn't have to be bleeding to be in a pain. A lot of times we are around someone who is in pain, but we don't know it because there isn't a cast or a flashing sign above their head that flashes: "Hurting Person Here" over and over again. A lot of times I have been in pain and no one knows it. I know y'all have had days like that too. It's just the way life goes sometimes.
I can't tell you how many times I wish that I had a sign above my head that explained what I was going through. It wouldn't be because I wanted pity, but a little compassion and sympathy would be nice. I have what I like to call the invisible diseases. When you look at me, my skin is a healthy albeit pale pink; I'm not grossly over or under (I wish!) weight, I walk without a limp, talk without a stutter and until recently functioned fairly well. Unless I chose to tell someone about my diseases, then no one would be the wiser. Let me tell you, that was and is a lonely place to be. I don't like telling people about what I have, because I don't want them to think I am asking for pity. Compassion yes, pity no.
Right now I would say that I am dealing with a great deal of physical pain & mental & emotional stress.

I had to go to the Emergency Room the other night. I hate it when the pain gets so bad that nothing makes it better. It was an interesting night. First, the doctor's won't administer pain meds unless you have someone with you who will take responsibility for you. This meant I had to ask one of my parents to go with me. This isn't too big of a problem, but then the other parent wanted to come. Now it looked like it was going to be a great big family party at the ER. (Joy!) We loaded up and went to the local hospital. Basically, the Indian man took one, maybe two glances at me, glanced over my symptoms and said (picture an indian accent) "We cannot offer you the proper care here. I am going to recommend transferring her to (a bigger hospital in the next city). They have a rheumatologist on call there, that you can see." We thought (naively) "great!", a rheumatologist, maybe we can get a second opinion on all of my diagnosis'.
Anyway, we get to the "bigger hospital", that I must describe as not being in the best part of town. First, there are a scary group of thugs sitting in the waiting room like it was a family reunion. I'm not sure who was there to receive treatment, but the 7 or 8 people sitting in the waiting room were having a grand time. Soda, cheetos, and funny stories galore. So, as my parents and I are sitting gingerly on the other side of the room, in our sticky pleather chairs, the nurse calls me back to get my vitals and take me to a room. After that, I have to walk thru a metal detector, with 3-4 police officers on the other side who at first looked like they were going to pat us down, but then took pity on us and let us thru. I walk down the hall, behind the nurse. I pass an empty gurney with bloody sheets on it, then a room with loud screaming. Turns out, they were treating several stabbing victims and several hit and runs. (I felt very safe and reassured at this time). After we sit behind a curtain for about 30 minutes, a doctor comes in who tells me there has never been a rheumatologist on call at the hospital (boy, did we feel stupid) and he could offer me pain medicine. I said ok! I was desperate at this point. So another 20 minutes passes and this guy, who looks like he could be a member of the Hells Angels motorcycle gang walks in, with NEEDLES! He was apparently here to deliver my pain medication. He starts ripping & spitting, tearing & squirting & sticking. He would rip a package open with his mouth, spit the torn paper on the floor. He did this with every tube, needle, and syringe package. Then he would put the med in the syringe & squirt some of it off to the side against the curtain before he jammed it in my central line. ( I seriously would not want to mess with this guy in a dark alley, or a lit alley for that matter). Anyway, at this point, I was just happy for the drugs. I also failed to mention that I never go to the hospital at reasonable hours. We were ER'ing it up from 11 pm-4:15 am. It was spectacular (sarcasm).
I must say as I wrap up this delightful post, that I am so grateful for my parents and even though I'm sure they are frustrated, and tired, and dealing with their own stuff, they were there for me and took me to the hospital. Not many people would put up with all the stuff my illnesses put out, but they are consistently there. I don't know what I would do without them.
I rambled on about my hospital visit and didn't talk about the emotional & spiritual pain. Those are good topics too. So maybe another post at a later date.

LOVE!<><