Oh *Cringe* it’s been way too long since I’ve written. It’s hard sometimes to talk about the bad stuff when you feel like it won’t end anytime soon. I’ve been having a rough few months to put it mildly and we can’t seem to figure out what’s going on. I think I might have been in withdrawal from the pain meds we’re shuffling around, or perhaps majorly herxing from the medical cannabis I’ve started using -which is really really REALLY helping everything. Except for when I herx. But I digress. I ended up in the ER a few weeks ago with severe abdominal pain (thought my appendix burst or something!) and forgetting to breathe and a whole bunch of weird suff which was possibly from withdrawal or slight overdose, which they didn’t figure out at the ER. I wrote this poem during a full night of strange seizure, excruciating involuntary movement, and knife-like abdominal pain.
Scale from 1-10
Pain in the abdomen that feel like
a car alarm going off,
smoke detector blaring,
In my house. In my walls.
My body, weary travel companion;
Undetachable from this.
one to ten
What is your pain like on
But the pain dosen’t speak
It doesn’t do roll call
and count the ways it is itself.
It leads to the same conclusion:
A number a number
no waiting room number
just my identifying health care number
which for security reasons I shall not inscribe here
it’s 9 digits long, and roughly speaking
marks my number
on that scale
you weigh my suffering in.
And I am still here in this darkening place
while ignorant armies
clash, crush, burn, stab,
in the early morning night.