Friday, March 15, 2013

Chapter 29

By May of that year, 2007, the neuropathy in my legs had gotten a lot worse.  Falling had become more frequent.  The doctor decided to set up an appointment in Halifax for a test to determine how bad it was and how far it had spread.  Walking long distances was becoming harder because of the pain and I had no idea how far it would be from where I would have to park to the department where the test was to take place.  Knowing that having to use a wheelchair might be a possibility I knew someone would have to be with me, so Elizabeth came along.  This was on a Monday.

I'm sure this test is from the dark ages!  It could be used on prisoners of war with great success I'm sure.  I had to lay on a table and they proceeded to attach wires to my hands, legs and feet.  These wires would conduct electricity to certain nerves.  It was like getting electric shocks.  They just didn't do it one time per spot, but over and over until I felt my ankles, fingers etc were going to blow clear off my body!  After 1/2 hour of this torture I couldn't hold back the tears any longer.  When they were finished doing that they took a really long needle and proceeded to put it into various muscles in my legs and inner thighs.  They then "pinged" this needle back and forth so that my muscle would spasm while they watched it on a monitor!  By the time they were finished an hour later and I left the room I knew something was wrong.  I didn't feel right.

I looked at Elizabeth and said, "Get me out of!"  I was shaking and my only thought was to get as far away from the hospital as fast as I could.

Once out of the city I called Alice on the cellphone.  I told her about the test and then told her that something wasn't right but I couldn't put my finger on what was wrong.

I got home but my mood started spiraling and by Wednesday I began to get suicidal.  Alice wasn't sure exactly what was going on, but she was calling me different times throughout each day to check on me.  Elizabeth was busy working both jobs and was hardly at home and Gary only paid attention to me when he wanted something so my condition went largely unnoticed.  Alice was the only person I was talking to at that point.  When mom would call I would pretend I was OK, after all, wasn't that what I was best at?

I had always kept up writing poetry.  I loved to write, but what happened with my writing took a bizarre turn.  Poems were coming out of me at such an incredible rate that by Friday I had written 40 of them.  There were times that I could hardly write fast enough, and I wasn't thinking about any of the words, they just came.  It was like it took on a life of its own!  I'd never written like this before and haven't since, it was a very strange occurrence!

By Friday Alice had gone from being concerned to downright alarmed.  All I was talking about was ending my life.  I didn't know what was happening to me, but everything that I had buried in the back of my mind for the last 19 years suddenly was flooding through me and I was overwhelmed with feelings of hopelessness, loneliness, pain and pure terror.  I was panicked to the point that I could hardly think and I just wanted it all to stop and I didn't care how.

I gathered sleeping pills, morphine and muscle relaxants and a glass of water and went in to where the computer was and shut the door.  Then the phone rang.

Alice had hung up from me and called Pastor.  He didn't know what was wrong at that point just that I was in a really bad place.  He talked and I listened, not really doing more than answering a few questions very briefly.  I think he knew me well enough at this point to know that if he asked me to do something and I said yes, that I would do it.  So he asked me to do 2 things for him.  The first one was to read Acts 27.  Its the account from the Apostle Paul about him being shipwrecked by a storm called Euroclydon.  He told me to find out where in the storm I was.  I said I would.  He then asked if I had been doing any writing and I said yes.  He asked if I would let him read what I had written and again I agreed.  We hung up with me having promised to do 2 things. 

The first thing I did was to read the passage from the Bible.  The only thing that stood out to me was the end of verse 20 where it said, "...all hope that we should be saved was then taken away."  I thought to myself, that's where I am, tossed and no hope.  I closed the Bible.  Feeling cut to the core I went to bed and cried myself to sleep.

The next day I took the poems and typed them.  Here's just a few of them.

I've become shipwrecked
Tossed up by the sea
I'm deserted by all,
No one's looking for me.
I have no provisions,
Everything was lost;
There will be no rescue,
For its to high of a cost.
For I am empty and useless,
And undesirable too;
There's no one to miss me,
They've all something else to do.
I've become shipwrecked,
Tossed up by the sea;
There's no one to care,
No one's looking for me.


I'm sinking in the quicksand
Of my shattered life;
I feel the tug downward,
It cuts like a knife.
My blood is seeping out,
It mixes with the sand,
And I feel a stinging blow
From Satan's powerful hand.
The pressure is so great,
That I can't expand my lungs;
And my feeble cry for help,
Is lost on my tongue.
My strength is quickly fading,
I can't hold up my head,
And I know that tomorrow
Will find me stone cold dead.


I need to protect my heart,
It can't break anymore,
I need to wrap it carefully
And fasten tight the door.
I can't put it together again,
I have no strength to try;
Its dents and cracks are spreading,
With each tear that I cry.
But I can't stop them from coming,
They have a will of their own,
I know they will only stop,
When my names carved on a stone.
Life has lost all meaning,
I'm empty on the inside,
There is no peace to be found,
I want to curl up and die.
But a place to die can't be found,
So I'm battered day and night,
This empty shell of a person,
Cannot keep up the fight.
I want to stop and rest,
And let the world go on,
I wait and wait and wait,
For even a flicker of a song.
But everything is quiet,
God has shut me out;
And I'm on my own again,
With fear, pain and doubt.


Life is in a turmoil,
And there's no sense to it;
Everything is falling apart,
Everything is blown to bits.
Demon's prowl at my windows,
And Satan's breaking down the door;
My heart is overwhelmed,
I can't take anymore.


Why does love seem like hate
And care hurt so much?
Why can I feel no peace,
Only sorrow at Your touch?
When will You look at me,
And feel compassion for my soul?
When will You pick me up,
And make me complete and whole?
When will I be accepted,
And not disgust You so much?
When will I feel gentleness,
And not harshness at Your touch?


I'm ugly and empty,
There's nothing left,
I can only look forward,
To something called death.
A state where there's
No hateful life,
Where there is no
Sorrow and strife.
There people can't turn
And look with contempt,
And figure they know
How my days are spent.
I'm ugly and empty,
My hearts like lead,
So I guess that means,
I'm already dead.


There were 40 poems like this!  Today I love these poems because they remind me of where I was and how far I've come.  I put them in a file and put them aside to give to the Pastor the next day.

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