Because not all medicines come in capsules

I wrote verse #50 today, Everyday Pain
I did because that is my reality.
That not even half a month into my last surgery,
I am in another kind of pain.


It is not new. 
It is what I was  going to a Physical Therapy clinic for a few months ago.
It is what I was getting my lower limbs pulled by traction hoping to fix the errant discs in my spine.
Again.
Like ten years ago. 


I cannot begin to describe the pain.
I am running out of words to describe the pain that is supposed to be similar to the pain I had ten years ago.
Sort of. But they are not.


Worse.
That much I can accurately say.
But I will stop trying to describe the pain.


I do marvel at the power of drugs to heal a person's wound after a surgery.
It is fascinating that someone who gets opened up for the surgeon to fix something will just go through 24 hours of getting in and out of sleep and pain and sleep and pain and sleep and pain and sleep....
And then no more.

At least in my case.


A day and a half after, I can get up and walk.
Go to the bathroom.
Another day and I can walk the hallway and back.


Even earlier than that, As soon as I get out of the Recovery Room
I can move side to side without help

 
I heal quick from the outside
But deep inside, so many parts are still broken.
And so I say, not all pains are the same.

And the drugs don't help at all.



I go back to The Writer's piece about writing a blog~~about writing our stories.
Our messy stories.
The stories written by a messed up writer for the messed up reader.
Stories that heal two broken hearts~that of the writer and the reader.


And then I go back to the blogs I have written.
All the stories.
About all things broken.
And how God puts them all back together.


One by one.
And then I heave.
And sigh.
And feel myself warming to my own stories.



The Writer always says it right:
"The first person that any words ever heal ~ is the writer of those words"


Those broken hearts ~ of the writer and the reader, are both mine.
I am the messed up writer and I am the messed up reader.


And as I read my own stories that I have written incorporating the thoughts of other bloggers,
I feel the tight muscles loosening. 
And the ebbing pain fading.
 .

That is relief.

I know the pain will slowly build up again later.
It is the same as when you're hooked up to Tramadol drip and you drift in and out of pain and sleep.
It cycles.


But the grand thing about it is getting a dose of pain killer that doesn't hurt the kidneys.
And even if the pain will come back later, there is always another dose that I can help myself with.
More stories from more broken hearts and messed up people. 


Until I heal from this pain.
Until God, who is in control of everything, decides when do I get disconnected to this invisible IV line that doesn't ever need an IV push.

Until I receive my healing whether here or in eternity.

I will be healed.
Because not all medicines come in capsules or tablets or IV.

I will be healed.
In God's perfect time.