Chronic illness, and it's evil stepsister, chronic pain, take a toll on the body, yes, but they also take a tremendous toll on the mind. This is something only those who struggle with chronic pain can understand. As a result, relationships can suffer. I find myself getting angry with the fact that my life is so stymied, a life that was, not very long ago, still stuffed full with activities and work and joy and fulfillment. Now, the view I enjoy ninety per cent of the time is this: 

The other ten per cent of my life is spent in doctors' offices or in physical therapy. My feet are so puffy they don't fit into my shoes unless I pull out the laces. I take medication to control the edema (fluid retention), but that drives my blood pressure down, requiring more trips to the doctor to monitor it. I take medication for the pain, but that is addictive, and dangerous, so I only take it on the worst days, and only at bedtime. The rest of the time, I use techniques for pain management that I learned at the venerable Mayo Clinic, techniques that don't do a thing to actually get rid of the pain, but just help me channel my thoughts into things other than the pain. 

My nightstand is a mini pharmacy: 

And these are just the ones that don't fit in the drawer. 

So when I hear people are saying I seem angry. Bitter. Combative. 

They're right. 

I AM angry. I AM bitter. I AM combative. I don't want to listen to people telling me how I SHOULD be. I don't want to listen to people telling me I can't be envious when others' lives are so full of fun and interesting places and stimulating jobs and time spent doing things with their kids and their friends. I CAN be envious!! Does that mean I'm not happy for them? Of course not. I can be envious of their abilities and happy for their joys. If the only obstacle I faced was not being able to walk, hell I'd be out there rolling circles around everyone else. That's how I always was. "Never sit still or moss will grow on your buns. Never stop working or moss will grow on your brain". That was my motto. I have to say that I am glad I can't see my buns at the moment - as I'm sure they are covered in 31 months' worth of moss. There might even be lichen back there. I don't want to know. I do know that my brain has turned to mush. Use it or lose it, isn't that the expression? Using a brain requires a means to an end. A job. A project. A purpose. Now I feel like I've accomplished a lot if I manage to get out of my pajamas by noon. Most days I fail. 

Having friends who understand what I am going through because they are also going through it is important. I have them, they are precious to me. Those who don't suffer from illness or pain, I have those too. They are also precious. But of the second group, some stay the long haul, some can't understand and leave, and some I push away because they become demanding. When you live in constant pain, when every movement is crushed glass under your skin, searing stabs of molten agony, you can't abide by the demands of others. Your body's demands are the only ones you can answer. Sleep!!! Lay flat on the floor!!! Take deep breaths until it passes!!! Lay perfectly still until 9:00!!! (9:00 is the time I take my night meds). You can't hear anything else above the din of constant commands being barked by the pain center of your brain. 

I always feel a different kind of pain when a friend leaves, because of me or because of them, the pain is the same. It's a squeezing in my chest, a pricking behind my eyes, hot tears spilling over my lids, rolling down my cheeks, the draining of grief from my soul. 

Making room for the joy I know will someday rush back in. 

Someday.