So, Yeah It Hurts

Another morning, my mind softly wakens. Down caresses my body. Snuggled deep in my nest, pillows support me from all sides. Each shoulder is propped just right, and they both need it. The left, oh my little guy, he needs support. He can move and breathe and participate in life. But he’s still so weak. Years we have worked together to grow nerve connections, then to create new pathways in the brain, and finally to strengthen muscle fibers.

Some of those muscle fibers are still atrophied. Some are paralyzed. Some are simply confused.

And some are happy and joyous and jumping and flipping in disbelieve in what we can do. And we do so much! Where once he was completely flaccid, banging and bumping and flopping, yanking my shoulder out of socket with each step. Now he can rest in a neutral position, supported by weak but innervated muscles.

The right, she carries so much of the burden. Exhausted beyond measure, she aches deep under the scapula where the ribs want to clamp up and close down when the breath fills the lung, exerting its force.

Together they gang up on the neck. Her exhaustion cannot be compared. She still feels the vicious assault as a car slams into mine, thrusting my body in one direction and my head in the opposite. Further weakened when a surgeon takes some of her nerve function to connect the left deltoid to my brain.

But before my eyes can open, this fine morning, the fire and ice ignite anew. But it’s not new. It is old and stuck and fixed and constant. Deep. All encompassing. A slushy, gumpy, oily ice burns deep in the marrow. That thumb, index finger and right half of my left hand do not rest. Ever. And the slightest touch or breeze sends it reeling in agony. Yet it cannot feel the comfort of a glove or blanket.

So I fill my lungs. That left diaphragm takes more effort as its nerves were damaged years ago in that same assault to my body on that cold January morning. But I breathe. I pull in a deep and refreshing breath as I stretch my body out through toes and fingers. My arms, ah both of them, rise up above my head. I rejoice in that ability.

I can breathe and stretch and face another day.

“Have I gone mad? I’m afraid so.
You’re entirely Bonkers.
But I will tell you a secret,
All the best people are.”
― Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

The Flying Lessons
Feel the pain no matter how big.
Breathe as deeply as you can, today.

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