Went For A Drive Yesterday…
Went for a drive yesterday.
It was early enough that the trees and grass
Were all still gilded with silver frost.
Beautiful. Serene. Breathtakingly so.
My most Wonderful, Beautiful, Needed Person,
Sat next to me and took in the beauty with me.,
Felt a bit of the frigid air blowing by outside the car.
And inside it.
And we talked.
And cried. Again.
And held each other against the ravages of this
Perfect storm we find ourselves in.
We talked of options. Time. The past.
But not the future.
We both know the odds are stacked against us.
That the storybook ending won’t likely happen.
It wasn’t fair to her. It wasn’t.
But I had to *know*.
I had to *see* it in her eyes.
Those beautiful, wonderful, eyes…
Had to ask and say those things
We had both been avoiding discussing so hard.
Would she ever be able to forgive me?
Or would she fall through the years hating me forever?
And we cried.
I don’t think we have *really* stopped
bawling our eyes out at least once a day since last year.
Since everything changed so badly for the worse.
A year ago they told us I had a few days or weeks to live.
We got a year.
We fought every day for it.
Every minute. Every hour.
But the pain has won over all.
The Pain Clinic’s removal of my meds
And refusal to put anything in their place
Or even respond to my repeated calls and cries in the night
As surely as if they slid a blade between my ribs.
All that is left is the bleeding out.
The last few breaths.
That last fluttering beats of my heart.
It showed me *just* how bad the situation
For those in pain is.
Calls to attorneys netted only one response.
They told me they had received *Hundreds* of calls this year.
*All* from people just like me.
People that had done *nothing* wrong.
People whose only “crime” was being broken inside.
The DEA has *so* scared doctors that my (and tens of thousands of others)
Prospect of receiving even the most basic care is *Shattered*.
Gone. Blown away in the winds of politics.
Unseen or uncared about by those leaders whose *job* it is
To protect and serve broken people like me.
The weakest amongst us.
We are *still* fighting.
But it is like trying to dance with no music.
We see those around us dancing to life’s music,
Yet we cannot hear the tune anymore.
Cannot seem to get them to *let* us hear it.
So we go through the motions of the dance of life.
We cling to each other in tears.
Hoping. Praying beyond all hope,
That we will be able to hear the music again.
Before my dance ends.
Before I can no longer lift my feet
Or sway to the unheard beat.
Can no longer…. Live.
Ashes. All is ashes and pain.
Her pain in watching my pain.
My pain in seeing that look in her eyes.
We talked of counseling.
What are they going to say, Really?
“It’s going to get better?”
“Just give it a little more time?”
But we both know it *isn’t* going to get better.
That there *is* no more time.
Things will probably just get worse
For those in pain and those that treat them.
At least in the short term.
Hopefully *only* in the short term.
But I won’t live to see it.
I just don’t have the strength.
I will “fight the good fight”.
Have and will. Like so many before me.
Until I…. just… don’t.
I have faced my fear.
Let it pass by me and through me.
And I am left standing….
Cold. Cool. Realistically fatalistic.
I used to think this fight was going to kill me.
I’ve come to realize….
It already *has*.