Thinking the Unthinkable Thought

January 21, 2014, 2:47 AM

There comes a time in the struggle to maintain our self identity whilst being hammered away at by constant pain where “The Unthinkable Thought” begins to form.

It isn’t anything substantial at first,  more of a nudge at the back of your mind than anything substantial. An itch that you daren’t think about or scratch at.  It sits there biding its time, because it knows that in the end, you will have to come to terms with it.

“Are you ready for me yet?”

So you battle on, fighting that terrible war of attrition where everything you are and have done is burned away one dream or memory at a time.  All sacrificed to the Need of the NOW.  The pain eats away at your joy, hopes, and dreams and devours them without any relief in sight.  You slowly begin to feel hollow inside, or so thin that a good breeze could blow you away.  And still the pain comes. And the thought waits…

Years, sometimes longer sometimes shorter, go by and this dark passenger in the back of your mind begins to ride along in all that you do or are.  It sits patiently, biding its time because it knows there is no answer to its unasked question:

“Is it time yet?”

“Is it time for all of this pain to finally stop?”
“Is it time for this book of your life to come to an end?”
“Are you ready yet?”

You refuse to look at or think about it.  You try and keep your mind busy with other things. You fight for some form of activity to keep your mind from that darkest of corners.

But late at night. In the deepest of night, when all you have between you and that questioning ..thing … is tears and your heart-beat, you hear it whispering ever so softly:

“Are you tired enough yet?”
“Are you brave enough yet?”

You war on, beyond any rational point of return.  Slowly but oh-so-surely you lose the battle with pain step by agonizing step.  Sometimes there are faster losses, like when you are denied aid. Or when your medicine finally runs out.  When the doctors refuse to hear you any longer and tell you that living in this horrendous pain is “for your own good.”  When you look ahead and see nothing but even more terrible dark nights alone, with nothing between your naked soul and that searing agony.

And still the voice calls out softly,
“Have you had enough yet?”
“Will it be soon?”

You isolate yourself away from those who cannot understand your pain, or simply stop trying to explain.  You lose friends and family because the pain comes between you and those ‘common ground’ activities that keep us bound together.  Your pool of people in your life slowly shrinks to just a few, or one. Or none.

You seek out the help of professionals who try and help you fight a rear-guard action against that dark passenger, but in the back of your mind you finally have to admit, “This pain is going to cost me my life.”  Maybe not today. maybe not tomorrow, but eventually.  And over time, you become okay with that.  You go through the motions. You learn to say and do all the right things.  But it is all puppet theater.  You know. You finally know.

Heavy with that knowledge, you fight for every day. You tell yourself “Not today. Or tomorrow.” and somehow that has to be good enough.  But you know.  You grasp at any small success or possibility, with the realization that you will probably just be disappointed, but you have to try.  And you do try, but eventually you just become too weary. Too exhausted.  Too tired.

The Pain finally Wins.

So you sit in the dark, alone with that lonely passenger as your only companion.

“Are you all set yet?”
“Have you finished your plans yet?”
“Do you have all of your papers and such organized yet?”
“Are you ready to stop dragging those you love down with you yet?”
“Is it that time yet?”

“Are you ready to end your life yet?”

And through a face with cold tear-less eyes, you quietly whisper to the lonely darkness, “Yes.”


~ by daveprime on January 21, 2014.

2 Responses to “Thinking the Unthinkable Thought”

  1. Well written and I couldn’t agree more with the repeated questions of ‘is it time yet? Have you had enough?’ I’ve said yes to that question three times, but yet I am still here. I have a ‘dark passenger’ that makes me writhe in pain until I get to the point I can’t move. I’ve been denied care, or the doctors just don’t believe the amount on pain I’m in, yet scans show the devastation left behind from bone infections and my autoimmune disease. I am now labeled as terminal and I live being fed by tubes that cause pain and receive fluids to try and keep my blood pressure and heart rate at somewhat of a normal level. I am so close to telling the doctors that I am done-no more fluids, no more antibiotics. No more treatment. No more pain.

    • I am SO sorry you are hurting so badly. And i wish with all of my heart that we could find peace and respite.

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