No Pain, No Gain

No Pain, No Gain

Everyone is writing things they are thankful for… so, I suppose i shall submit what I am thankful for too.. I am thankful for many things.. my husband, my family, my church, God, my dogs, my harley, my shoes… but the one thing I feel like writing about may come as a surprise. I am thankful for my pain. For those of you who don’t know, I have several autoimmune diseases that constantly attack my liver, kidneys, digestive system, pancreas, nerves.. pretty much the only unaffected organs I have left are my lungs and my heart. My nemesis is lupus… i talk about this a lot. I don’t speak often about what it actually FEELS like. Right at this very second, I have a throbbing pain in my lower back. my right hip is carrying on its continuing symphony of torture that earns that name, lupus… if feels like a wolf is gnawing ravenously, unceasingly upon my hip bone. This never leaves. Sometimes I can smoke enough pot to somewhat numb it, but I know it’s there. My left shoulder has fibromyalgia pain… i have a slight headache and both my wrists ache from the effort of cooking and typing. My feet both feel like they have been asleep and are just waking up, and there’s a strange tingling in my left cheekbone that usually signifies a nice pretty butterfly rash is going to land on my face. I am thankful for this pain because it strengthens me. It forces me to realize just what I am capable of enduring… I could take enough pills to make the pain go away… I choose to climb waterfalls or stumble over rocks at the Grand Canyon with Libby. My hip actually has a crunching feeling in it. I could probably get it replaced.. I choose to stand tall and firm in my stilettos. My ears are almost completely deaf… I choose not to wear hearing aids or get implants. I am uncertain as to how to explain this, but it’s much like the feeling i get when I go to the gym.. I just punch and punch and punch the bag until my knuckles bleed and my joints are screaming and my breath is coming in ragged gasps. i LOVE doing this to myself. I am a glutton for punishment, I suppose… I admit that sometimes, late at night, I am afraid.. not of dying itself… the good Lord will just bring me home… but for the ones I will leave behind. so many depend on me.. what will happen to them when I die? I get mad at my body when it can’t keep up until i curse and grind my teeth and growl like a demon because I cant do the things i used to do. I wonder do I want to die young and beautiful, or live to be old and scarred into a monstrosity all over my face by my disease? to an athlete dying young, huh? I am thankful that this disease has taught me to understand people who take their own lives… I don’t want to off myself, but i can see why some people do. I am thankful my pain makes me fight back… it gives me a punching bag that is an ever constant in my day to day life. It gives me the same thing that riding my bike in the cold and rain does… it’s not exactly enjoyable, rain running down the crack of your ass and you are just grasping that throttle and shivering as you squeeze your knees in tight against the engine trying to absorb some heat from your machine and squinting through the blur to try to keep it between the lines… but you know it is all a part of the amazing pleasure of the overall picture. I reckon if I can take kicking my own ass every day, the rest of the world is a piece of cake.

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