Can you hear that noise? A slight, slow scratch. A deep and low groan. Beneath the surface, the electric pain is starting to erupt. Two years to the day the monster reared it's ugly head and threw my world upside down. Then -- reprieve. Almost a year and a half of glorious days with nary a twitch. Until last Saturday, when the first twinges woke me up in the middle of the night.
No. No way. Just a twinge. Must be the weather. (Yes, when the weather is changing, I can feel it in my teeth.) But then Sunday came, then the next day, the next. Oh no. What have I done? What can I do? I look back at my records. My multiple notes from the neurologists. I dig out from my safe, my last remains of my meds -- are they expired? Will they work again? I cry. I pray. I beg -- please no! Not again! Not now!
And so I wait for the beast to show full and strong. I remain quiet, waiting for my face to contort to the pain mask that I wore. I am already saying goodbye to the life I have built here, to the Mom I have been. Because when the trigeminal neuralgia monster awakens fully, it consumes everyone and everything in it's path.
Will I survive it this time? Will my family? Will I find a doctor here that will believe me? And isn't it ironic, that on February 12, 2008 I wrote a very similar note on a scraggly piece of paper. Only then, I didn't recognize the monster. We hadn't yet formally met.
Will I survive it this time? Will my family? Will I find a doctor here that will believe me? And isn't it ironic, that on February 12, 2008 I wrote a very similar note on a scraggly piece of paper. Only then, I didn't recognize the monster. We hadn't yet formally met.
1 comment:
Stumbled upon your blog and I read enough posts to be both entertained by your writing abilities and concerned for you. Are you all right? This last post was a real cliff-hanger. :(
R
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