"Between Here and Gone" (conclusion)

I awoke in the morning having to go the bathroom. The thought of getting out of bed horrified me. I did not want to feel the pain of the hospital or the night before. David came into the bedroom to check on me and asked if I wanted breakfast. I was not hungry and told to him I was afraid to get up. He said he would help and I very gingerly scooted to the bedside and slowly stood up. I didn't feel any pain except the usual sciatica. I don't need to relate what painkillers can do to the digestive system. There was a five car pile-up on the "Hershey highway" and I would be awhile in the bathroom. Still, THAT pain was gone which brought it's own relief. I figured the nurse hit a main support muscle in my back, leaving my lower left back (the bad side) completely vulnerable and the shot had wore off.

That evening I decided to join David and his partner to watch some televison. As I sat in the recliner, I suddenly felt a rush of twenty thoughts, cold, disconnected from reality or in short: felt like I was dying. David's partner remarked immediately "Something's wrong with him and it's not good." David looked at me and asked what was wrong. I couldn't give them an answer. I just felt paralyzed with fear. I felt like I couldn't breathe and started to hyper-ventilate. It was a full blown "panic-attack." Until you experience the hell of one of these, you cannot articulate what it is like to have one.

It is at this point my brain had enough: enough of pain, thoughts of bills, no money coming in, did I need surgery, and most of all missing Greg. I would not sleep that night and would have another one the next day. I was in bed watching TV and BAM, it hit me. All I knew is that I had to move. I would later find out that this is called: "fight or flight" very common with panic attacks. Whatever this shit was, I wanted it gone. I made another call to a doctor friend and was prescribed "Klonopin." This drug is an anti-convulsant, but is also commonly used in the treatment of anxiety and panic. It worked and that's all that matters, or does it? I had so many medications going in my body and worse very addictive medications.

I finally got some good news: through another doctor friend I had my M.R.I. date moved up from three months to two weeks. I was calling in all favors and friends who could help. I was also happy Greg was coming home from Germany. I've learned never expect a certain outcome or assume how someone will feel in a situation like this. Greg returned and seemed even more disconnected. When I saw him I just cried. I wanted him to hold me and tell me that everything was going to be okay. His reaction was more like: "Why are you crying?" He had no idea. Looking back I should not have been so selfish. He had just come off a hellacious flight, was tired and had to deal with this. By his own admission, Greg was never a coddler.

I started sleeping in our guest room for the firm mattress and getting up to take medications. Greg would get a better night's sleep without all the disruption. This was a huge mistake as it only drove a bigger wedge between Greg and myself. Our lives quickly became a series of "Good mornings" and "Good nights." I can't blame Greg, the Paxil along with all the other medication had completely changed the person he'd met. There we were, both of us not knowing how to fix the other. I guess Greg assumed the outcome of my back problem would take care of things, but remember what I said about assumptions earlier in this posting. The damage was only beginning.

I thought a light went out, but now the candle shines.
I thought my tears wouldn't stop, then I dried my eyes.
And after all of this, the truth that holds me here,
Is that this emptiness is something not to fear.
Yeah, I'll keep wondering how we know where we belong,
After all the journeys made, and the journeys yet to come.
When I feel like giving up instead of going on,
Somewhere in between.

Yeah, I'm just wondering how we know where we belong.
Is it in the arc of the moon, leaving shadows on the lawn?
In the path of fireflies or a single bird at dawn,
Singing in between here and gone.