Yesterday, my fairy godmother (aka my surgeon) turned a pumpkin into a coach (a wheelchair), transformed my rags into a spectacular gown (a beautiful backless hospital gown with coordinating, one size fits all paper knickers) and glamorously laboured over my hair and makeup (injected one of my intervertebral discs with local anaesthetic). Until midnight, when the spell would be broken (the anaesthetic would wear off), I was expecting to be Cinderella. I would be pain free and more mobile. I would prance with the Prince (my dad) and be liberated from my evil stepsisters (my evil intervertebral discs). I would be taken to the ball!
Unfortunately this expectation was a fairytale and fairytales very rarely materialise. My evil stepsisters did have a fleeting lull in their malicious schemes to cause agony. They did, however, replace these noxious strategies with a successful alternative mode of intervention, completely numbing my right leg so that it was rendered totally useless. Yesterday may not have let me shimmy at the shindig or boogie at the ball, but it did at least post me the invitation. It was the final confirmation that the major surgery is the slipper that fits my spine perfectly. My surgeon will be my fairy godmother, although I will have to wait a week and a half for him to wave his magic wand and the ball will be a few months off.
Yikes. My heart goes out to you. I hope the slipper is the fit you have been waiting for.
ReplyDeleteI love your writing and hope to interact with you more. I'm signing up for your blog.
I was happy to find chronicbabes, too. Just so nice and what a gift to meet talented, extraordinary women in the same stage of life, just beginning to making something of their adult lives that they can call their own and yet must simultaneously come to terms with the chronic card they've been dealt.
I have just read this post but look forward to reading more now that you've sent me the link. Turning in for tonight!
This post reminded me of the story of Allerleirauh, one of those classic tales (like Cinderella) that in some way talks about the pains of the psychological journey to womanhood and the "right to wear the golden dresses". Unfortunately this beautiful heroine (like her sister in psyche Cinders) has to do all that hard kitchen work first. I am sure a life dealing with chronic pain must be akin to the most arduous of kitchen work...so I have hope that in many ways the Golden Dress will also be yours. It's a story worth reading with something that speaks on a lower level to most women.
ReplyDeleteWith supportive thoughts to you.
Hannah Duncan.
(I'll follow your blog from now on)