It is easier to find men who will volunteer to die, than to find those who are willing to endure pain with patience. Julius Caesar
It’s late. Again.
I find myself in a familiar position – in pain. Tired. Unable to sleep because of the discomfort.
It’s been 4 days, roughly. Give or take an hour or two.
It started with bloating. Not mild bloating – the vague feeling that your pants are a bit too snug, or where you find yourself pondering, “what did I eat?” Bloating. Serious, granny tummy, doubled in size, “no ma’am, I’m not 5 months pregnant” bloating. And it’s vile.
My work trousersy were
snug so tight I couldn’t snap the three clasps, let alone zip the zipper. This was on Monday.
Meticulously, I watched what I ate. Nothing offensive – nothing that could bite me back later – entered my mouth. I swear!
Monday’s bloat turned into Pajama Bottom Tuesday. If it had a zipper, button, snap or clasp, it didn’t budge past my thighs.
Then there was pain.
Tuesday night I climbed into bed, a nasty bloat hanging in my tummy and now pelvic pain. As I pulled the covers to my chin, I was seized with an agonizingly sharp pain that ripped from the front of my pelvis to the sacrum. And it kept coming in waves, the after shocks leaving a mild ache in the left side. They felt like labor pains.
Pain the next day – mild.
Paint the next night – an encore of the Searing Pelvic Knife Dance featuring Madam Ovary and the” I need an Epidural band”.
It’s been a few days/night now. Last night, I was desperate. From the Chemist’s I snatched a bottle of magnesium citrate and chugged it.
Even after the vile, salty concoction worked, I am in pain. I am uncomfortable. My stomach is still BLOATED.
And now… there is a central hardness near my belly button.
So again, tonight, I cannot sleep. I lay here, with the laptop light comforting me. It provides very little, though.
I’m playing the Pain Game. And I seriously want to win it and NEVER play again.