Doctor. Doctor. Do Me Harm.
These are terrible thoughts, which can’t be wrestled with, or thrown down.
Yet there they stand, gently humming back stage, inside my bedridden mind.
There, every night, as I slide under my bedding, after yet another day topside above my futon.
They whisper, what if?
What if, after losing all the weight you can, then trying everything else available you can, your back still isn’t weight bearing?
What if you remain bedridden, having to take drugs to manage, cope, and handle the pain, for the rest of your life?
Be expected, once again, by Doctors, to accept it.
These thoughts are what hum like electricity, I can’t turn off.
One answer cracks through, bubbles to the surface, still as a question.
Could I have surgery to paralyze me, from the waist down?
Could being paralyzed be, what switches off all the pain, so that I could feel at peace, in a wheelchair?
Accepting living with pain, only able to comfortably stand, and sit for a few minutes, for the rest of my life, is not acceptable to me.
Part of a Doctors oath is to do no harm.
Only, what if, doing harm, is the only cure left?
In a wheelchair, I wouldn’t be able to stand at all.
It’s not like standing for a few minutes, or being able to walk to the kitchen and back, is everything.
Yes I’d have to learn a new way of living, yet it can be a REAL way of living, not only existing.
In a wheelchair, I could get out of bed, for more than a few minutes, at a time.
Being paralyzed the pain would end.
Leaving a gigantic gorgeous, open wide space, eager to be filled, by whatever I can imagine again.
No more mind strangling, pain management drugs.
In a wheelchair, I could be with my family, anywhere at home, anytime.
In a wheelchair, I could use my laptop properly, and work for as long as I desire again.
In a wheelchair, I could get out of the house, sit in a car, watch my girls play sport, see their plays, witness their achievements, at school, and beyond.
In a wheelchair, I could help cook, go out for dinner, visit friends, attend family gatherings, meet new people, see a movie in a cinema, be able to travel, and even play a wheelchair sport.
In a wheelchair, I could experience a FULL life again.
No more having to take background, or breakout pain management drugs.
When the drugs aren’t enough, no more going inside myself to open a door, to enter a room, then another room within, and another room deeper still, until ALL the pain is finally left SLAMMED SHUT behind.
No more always wearing pajama pants
No more mainly experiencing the same four walls.
No more looking at one true view.
No more having everyone have to visit me, and not the other way around.
No more only seeing photos, or watching videos, of hearing stories, about my girls milestones.
No more one finger typing on my iPhone, or iPad Notepad, just so I can write every day.
Doctors who do no harm.
Once I’ve exhausted everything, I can do to help myself.
When there is nothing more, I can do.
If the only answer left, is becoming paralysed, so I can be pain free in a wheelchair.
Doctor, Doctor, please, PLEASE, Do Me Harm.
(C) Doctor Doctor Do Me Harm Copyright Cristina Munoz 2016