Thursday, May 05, 2005

Prisons Within Prisons

More than ever, beginning last fall, my house feels like a prison, my body an additional prison layered within that outer one. It's been 15 years now, with small breaks when I was clearer and could do more things. I've again not been able to drive and the knee injury from that last fall refuses yet to heal. Inflammation in my body limits my activities and wakes me at night and the dizziness is quite bad again.

My closest friends, one by one, have moved from Florida to other areas. Most of my family is dead, now. Those few close cousins who are still alive live a distance away and their own life circumstances have made it impossible for them to visit, except for one, in nine years now. My husband has long wearied of the CFIDS and my life restrictions, just as I have, even though overall I'm better than I was for nine years when I couldn't have even typed this post onto a computer.

Where does courage come from, I ask myself? Sometimes it's there, but I lose it again so often, esp days like today when everything is blurred, everything hurts and my head roars.

I shouldn't complain, I tell myself. I don't have AIDS. I don't have cancer. I don't have a degenerative disease, yet I have an illness that's still not easily understood or accepted by many doctors or the general public. I have an illness that's still questioned as being re its validity by some doctors since it can't be measured neatly and without doubt by a single test, or cluster of tests.(I won't even bring up how doctors viewed tumors and ulcers before ways were found to directly observe causes). So, for right now, I deal with the doubt and, sometimes, redicule, by others along with the profound changes in my life. I try everything from mental to physical, from medical to experimental, from attitude changes and meditation to acceptance.

And as I've said, I know other people face much worse than I do every day. I tell myself that, but it's not helping right now. When I'm clearer, perhaps I can write a poem again soon. Perhaps one will come to help carry my spirit to new places and help me grow my wings back again.


Michael Parker said...

So sorry to hear of your discouragement, Pris. Keep looking to that horizon. We must maintain, whatever we do.

I wanted to comment about not being able to write poetry during these spells of illness. I know what you are speaking of. It seems the muses have sealed themselves up behind a veil and the magic that makes phrases live is lost somewhere in the air.

Rest and get well soon!

Berenice said...

Pris, you have courage within, even when you feel it has been lost. I know; because from my far off seat I watch you as though you are in the same room. I see your courage and spirit shine out and say to myself "Wow, if I were half the person she is, I would consider myself a worthy and brave human."

Remember, you help me through dark times. B xx

didi said...

Hi prissy.