Thursday, April 29, 2010

What A Difference Five Months Make

I was here in November, eating Vicodin and happy about it. I was in town (Palm Desert, that is) for a wedding and I had been in so much pain I wasn't sure I was going to be able to fly. Well, sit is more accurate since I, myself, cannot fly.

At the time, sitting was becoming a challenging occupation the way that touching one's toes becomes challenging for the elderly. That may seem exaggerated but elderly was what I was feeling, even as I edge towards that reality, as my pain kept me from doing things one normally does.

It wasn't long before not being able to sit was to develop into not being able to stand, and a reality I had not previously known. That of pain on a level I thought was made only of legend, the storytelling of people who were a little off, of seekers of attention. Little wonder those stories are not believed. They are unbelievable. I didn't believe it could be true, either, until I lived it. And, thank God, it was only for a short while.

But the story I tell today is one of remission. I am back in Palm Desert after an odyssey that bridges much more than distance. And, leaving out the details of what happened between then and now, I am happy to say that I am walking, biking, and swimming - all without pain. All without drugs.

I am here again, in April this time, not to see a wedding, not in pain, not taking drugs. And happy about it.

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