I am angry. The only problem is I don't know at what or whom. All the same, I am fuming. I want to break something. Hit something so hard it shatters into a million pieces. Hoping one of those pieces has the relief I am desperately crying out for. M friend, I just don't know if I can do this anymore. I want to be the face of endurance and strength but every passing day brings me closer to embracing and making the end my friend and ally.
I know I am letting many people down. I'm letting myself down in many ways too but I just can't stand against the pain any longer. I don't want to face another day of mustering every ounce of "fuerza" inside me and forging onward. Onward, Christian soldier...
Maybe if I put a face to this excruciating agony, maybe then you will understand what I am standing up against on a daily basis.
My tumor has grown to the extent and proportion that it has created a complete blockage and stricture in my urethral canal. Where you and I were created to urinate with ease from, no longer an option or luxury for me. Yet my body, after thirty-nine years of living and daily flowing out of one place and direction now finds a "Do Not Enter" signposted in crimson bold letters. Still the urine persists and insists in coming out as it was created by the almighty to function. Imagine the pain and discomfort at having a gushing flow racing and pressing up against a brick wall only to finally manage having two or three drops make it out of you. Have I painted a vivid enough picture for you?
The chemotherapy drugs I have injected into my body on a weekly basis have turned the liquids and fluids inside me into a fiery and hot concoction. My urine feels like fire coming out of me. Or better yet, it feels like passing a thousand sharp knives through the smallest slit in your body. Every drop that makes it out is like a stab wound against my tender flesh. Maybe I should be thankful that only two or three drops make it out because I would hate to experience what it would be like to have a thousand knives or razor blades exiting me all at once. I remember vividly when this was the daily and often practice. Before the stricture and blockage, during my first round of radiation and chemo., I had to endure urinating what I have described to you here. In order to spare my family and friends the sound of my hellish screams, I'd stuff a rag into my mouth or cry into the crook of my arm. Taking a piss with copious tears was the norm for me then. Now I have a suprapubic catheter installed to help the urine flow on a daily basis. Unfortunately for me, the catheter must be changed and placed every four to six weeks. Thus far I've had it done twice (today having been the unfortunate and hellish second time).
Mark my words when I tell you here in writing as I have already made it known verbally to my uncaring urology team, I WILL NOT UNDERGO ANOTHER CATHETER CHANGE unless I am unconscious. I will never again subject my body to the horror I endured today at the hands of a medical staff who either thought my piercing screams and uncontrollable tears an act, a coward unable to man up and take it like a man. Of yeah? Fuck you and your mother who birthed you is all I have to say! I WILL NOT UNDERGO ANOTHER CATHETER CHANGE while I am still conscious and alert. I just won't. The pain was absolutely hellish and any procedure that causes me to cry out: "Take me home, Lord, if this is what I have to put up with!!!?" I will not be subjected to without a fight. And fight I will. Fight or Flight. I'd rather fight while I still have it in me to do.
While I am remorseful at having lashed out and physically become agitated to the point of becoming physically violent and defiant, I stand by my decision. While I still have strength in me to fight I will do so and object to further pain. This is the cross I must bear but I simply cannot be led like lamb to the slaughter in silence. While Jesus had it in him not cry out and never utter a word, I on the other hand have not achieved the level of suffering which He did and modeled for mankind on the cross. I guess the anger stems from my inability to perfectly imitate my Savior and thus feel like I have let Him, myself, and the myriad of others who look to me to be he rock of Gibraltar during these given situations. All the morphine in the world was not able to assuage and keep my pain at bay. I guess it has a mind of its own.
Jesus, help me. Put your strong arms around me and comfort me as you alone know how to do.
Crooked Notes by Idilio Rivera is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Sunday, November 7, 2010
When Royalty has to beg for Bread
I'm definitely the type of guy who needs to touch base with his emotions on a daily basis. It is very important to daily gauge where I am at with my feelings. If I don't do this I begin to unravel and slowly slide into negativity and self-doubt. This has been happening this week and I despise how it makes me feel. I have been questioning every move or action I have taken. I am frustrated to say the least.
I've become accustomed to the around the clock physical pain I have been experiencing for months now. If it were not for the daily regimen of Morphine I honestly don't think I'd still be here. Most definitely, I would have begged the Lord to take me home by now. Simple as that. I may come across as a trooper who admittedly has a high threshold for pain but deep down I am a coward who cringes at the thought of being in agony. Truth be known, I have stuck with this present ordeal because deep down I believe I am being tested by God and in the end if I do not faint and throw in the towel, I will be rewarded with complete healing. I hope I am right. I pray I am not mistaken and soon will see the rich reward of obedience manifested in a pain free existence.
You can just imagine the utter disappointment and disillusionment at receiving the unwanted news that this cancer has spread into my bones. This explains Dr. Nash's insistence for the surgical removal of my pelvic bones. I turned it down because I could not be given any guarantee that the cancer would not spread or come back. Besides, my quality of life would be greatly diminished which is something I am not looking forward to one bit. My life has already been altered to the point where I spend most of my time confined to my bed. Since I don't go anywhere, my car has been put away in the garage. My wardrobe has been transformed to pajamas and a bathrobe. The only time I get dressed nowadays is when I have a doctor's appointment, chemotherapy session, or to attend church on Sundays. Overnight my life has been transformed and reduced to existing within small confined spaces.
In order to stave off the pain I have been put on a frequent daily regimen of morphine and dilaudid pills. Every two hours my alarm goes off and I pop at least ten tiny dilaudud pills along with morphine tablets every eight hours. The result of all this intake has been severe drowsiness and slumber. I have been transformed into a bear hibernating for the winter. To say I sleep more than I am awake is an understatement. My deep concern and fear with this is that I will slip into a comatose induced deep sleep and never fully recover from it. Heaven forbid. There is so much I want to accomplish. Unfortunately I can't do much while sleeping.
Lastly, with the sudden loss of employment I have been catapulted into financial despair. I am still in the process of applying for long-term Social Security benefits which is made all the longer when I am sleeping when I should be gathering the paperwork needed in order to apply and be approved. It amazes me how it is expected of sick people to go about this long process by themselves. Or maybe others have assistance which I don't. The Social Worker assigned to me by the Visiting Nurse Service I am enrolled in seems not to have the passion or concern required to make things happen. So what if I have no income? So what if the bills unpaid? So what? Hey, so what if I am weeks away from having no medical insurance whatsoever? I have been reduced to begging for small donations from family and friends in order to meet some of the financial expenses piling up before me. I guess the Lord is teaching me great humility and patience. I just wish I didn't feel like a such a beggar when I am supposed to be royalty. Somewhere there has been a serious disconnect and I am feeling very much like the tail and not the head. And you know what compounds these feelings all the more? When I finally get around to asking for help and I get a line of questioning in return. I hate being made to feel like I am applying for donations and offerings. I completely understand how we are in tough economic times and not everyone has it to give. All I ask is for a simple "sorry, no can do right now" and leave it at that. Believe me I am not taking any of the money I receive to go off on a night on the town or to buy me a pair of Michael Jordans (are those still being sold, anyway?)
I'm sick, in pain, fighting for my life, and reduced to a pauper who has to beg for hand-outs. Life is good I tell you. I feel so worthy right about now. Maybe going to sleep and slipping into eternal slumber might not be such a bad thing after all. The dead do not have to worry about a thing. Yet here I lie determined to suck up whatever pride I have left and keep living with dignity. Jesus help me.
Crooked Notes by Idilio Rivera is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
I've become accustomed to the around the clock physical pain I have been experiencing for months now. If it were not for the daily regimen of Morphine I honestly don't think I'd still be here. Most definitely, I would have begged the Lord to take me home by now. Simple as that. I may come across as a trooper who admittedly has a high threshold for pain but deep down I am a coward who cringes at the thought of being in agony. Truth be known, I have stuck with this present ordeal because deep down I believe I am being tested by God and in the end if I do not faint and throw in the towel, I will be rewarded with complete healing. I hope I am right. I pray I am not mistaken and soon will see the rich reward of obedience manifested in a pain free existence.
You can just imagine the utter disappointment and disillusionment at receiving the unwanted news that this cancer has spread into my bones. This explains Dr. Nash's insistence for the surgical removal of my pelvic bones. I turned it down because I could not be given any guarantee that the cancer would not spread or come back. Besides, my quality of life would be greatly diminished which is something I am not looking forward to one bit. My life has already been altered to the point where I spend most of my time confined to my bed. Since I don't go anywhere, my car has been put away in the garage. My wardrobe has been transformed to pajamas and a bathrobe. The only time I get dressed nowadays is when I have a doctor's appointment, chemotherapy session, or to attend church on Sundays. Overnight my life has been transformed and reduced to existing within small confined spaces.
In order to stave off the pain I have been put on a frequent daily regimen of morphine and dilaudid pills. Every two hours my alarm goes off and I pop at least ten tiny dilaudud pills along with morphine tablets every eight hours. The result of all this intake has been severe drowsiness and slumber. I have been transformed into a bear hibernating for the winter. To say I sleep more than I am awake is an understatement. My deep concern and fear with this is that I will slip into a comatose induced deep sleep and never fully recover from it. Heaven forbid. There is so much I want to accomplish. Unfortunately I can't do much while sleeping.
Lastly, with the sudden loss of employment I have been catapulted into financial despair. I am still in the process of applying for long-term Social Security benefits which is made all the longer when I am sleeping when I should be gathering the paperwork needed in order to apply and be approved. It amazes me how it is expected of sick people to go about this long process by themselves. Or maybe others have assistance which I don't. The Social Worker assigned to me by the Visiting Nurse Service I am enrolled in seems not to have the passion or concern required to make things happen. So what if I have no income? So what if the bills unpaid? So what? Hey, so what if I am weeks away from having no medical insurance whatsoever? I have been reduced to begging for small donations from family and friends in order to meet some of the financial expenses piling up before me. I guess the Lord is teaching me great humility and patience. I just wish I didn't feel like a such a beggar when I am supposed to be royalty. Somewhere there has been a serious disconnect and I am feeling very much like the tail and not the head. And you know what compounds these feelings all the more? When I finally get around to asking for help and I get a line of questioning in return. I hate being made to feel like I am applying for donations and offerings. I completely understand how we are in tough economic times and not everyone has it to give. All I ask is for a simple "sorry, no can do right now" and leave it at that. Believe me I am not taking any of the money I receive to go off on a night on the town or to buy me a pair of Michael Jordans (are those still being sold, anyway?)
I'm sick, in pain, fighting for my life, and reduced to a pauper who has to beg for hand-outs. Life is good I tell you. I feel so worthy right about now. Maybe going to sleep and slipping into eternal slumber might not be such a bad thing after all. The dead do not have to worry about a thing. Yet here I lie determined to suck up whatever pride I have left and keep living with dignity. Jesus help me.
Crooked Notes by Idilio Rivera is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Whose Report will I believe?
I wonder if my physical drowsiness and constant sleep is a sign or reflection of my spiritual condition? Is someone above trying to get my attention about something? Can't help but wonder right about now if my lamp is full, empty, or neither. I'd like to say it is full but how can I gauge whether I am being truthful or not. I've realized how much of a propensity I have to say things to myself which will make me feel good about myself. Sometimes I think I have taken all the emotional lessons learned during my seeking professional counseling days too far. It's one thing to speak and affirm positive declarations to yourself but it is something all together detrimental to do so when we are flat out lying to ourselves. To say I am healed while I am still very much ill would be one thing but it would be another thing to say "I am healed" and walk away from receiving any further treatment. Foolishness. Take it from me, I learned my lesson well in regard to this.
I have spent the bulk of my life dealing with depression. I have been certifiably diagnosed as having "major-depressive disorder". I used to think and had mistakenly diagnosed myself as being bi-polar. It was during my three month stint at the Elmhurst Hospital Psych. Ward, back in 2002, where I was finally made to understand what type of depression I was being afflicted by. I always look back at this time period as a turning point and significant milestone in my life. I was finally ready, willing, and able to deal with my issues. Instead of running from them or worse, draping myself with some spitiual mumbo jumbo declaration about being healed when I really wasn't. I am all for declaring and having faith and confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see (Hebrews 11:1) but I will never get to where I need to be if I don't do what is required of me. In order to overcome depression it required more than just speaking God's truth (a must) and renewing my mind (imperative) but I also had to take the extra step and commit to faithfully working stuff out with a professional counselor(s). Part of that also called for popping anti-depressants on a daily basis. Looking back, it all seemed so easy but in reality the work unto emotional health was ugly and at times down-right frightening. There were times I actually thought that facing the facts would literally crush me and kill me. Thankfully, Holy Spirit was there every step of the way to grant me breakthrough and ultimate victory. Did I mention how every time I weaned myself or abruptly stopped taking my medication, within two weeks I was downright suicidal, ready to take my life at a moment's notice? Again, Jesus had to lead me gently by the hand and convince me how important and necessary it was to adhere to a daily regimen of anti-depressants. Once I was finally able to understand and identify religious people's well meaning but damaging advice about "claiming my complete healing and walking away cold turkey from any and all medications" as harmful to me, then was I able to experience the equilibrium and mental clarity necessary to move into wholeness. I have become a staunch supporter of those who marry their faith with the gift of science granted from above in order to achieve healing. Some people don't agree with this but I have found it works in my life just fine. I am looking forward to the day when God's power breaks out in such a way that "supernatural" healing will be the norm and not the exception. I am counting on being there in the flesh to serve as a living witness, as a sign and a wonder to God's restorative healing power. Until then, you better believe I am going to adhere to my daily regimen of Wellbutrin, Sustiva, Valtrex, Tricor, Onandasetron, MS Contin, Hydromorphone, etc. and whatever other pill is prescribed to me in order to prolong my life and keep this temple breathing, loving, and laughing among the living.
"The kingdom suffers violence and the violent take it by force". I may be wrong in my personal interpretation of this scripture and that is okay since I believe this revelation was given to me by God so that I might understand the season I am living in. It clearly speaks to me that if I am going to be healed and be set free from the ravages of cancer, well, I am going to have to fight for it....with violence if necessary. I received the news today that my cancer has spread to my pelvic bone region. I'm reading up on the whole metastatic bone cancer thing as I write this. Trying to figure out what I need to do. How do I incorporate my faith with natural methods of healing? I have been bombarded lately with suggestions and possible solutions but ultimately it rests in my hands what I am to do.
I refuse to accept that this is how God wants to call me home. Cancer will have no part in my life. I am not going out this way! Forget about all the things yet to be accomplished and fulfilled, I cannot manipulate God to do as I say. If it were so, He would not be God or at least not a God worth giving your life wholeheartedly to. I will keep reminding Him of His word which does not return back void but I will keep believing in faith that He is for me and not against me...that if we being mortals know how to give our children good gifts how much more will my Heavenly Father grant me above and beyond what "we" are asking Him for.
Crooked Notes by Idilio Rivera is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
I have spent the bulk of my life dealing with depression. I have been certifiably diagnosed as having "major-depressive disorder". I used to think and had mistakenly diagnosed myself as being bi-polar. It was during my three month stint at the Elmhurst Hospital Psych. Ward, back in 2002, where I was finally made to understand what type of depression I was being afflicted by. I always look back at this time period as a turning point and significant milestone in my life. I was finally ready, willing, and able to deal with my issues. Instead of running from them or worse, draping myself with some spitiual mumbo jumbo declaration about being healed when I really wasn't. I am all for declaring and having faith and confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see (Hebrews 11:1) but I will never get to where I need to be if I don't do what is required of me. In order to overcome depression it required more than just speaking God's truth (a must) and renewing my mind (imperative) but I also had to take the extra step and commit to faithfully working stuff out with a professional counselor(s). Part of that also called for popping anti-depressants on a daily basis. Looking back, it all seemed so easy but in reality the work unto emotional health was ugly and at times down-right frightening. There were times I actually thought that facing the facts would literally crush me and kill me. Thankfully, Holy Spirit was there every step of the way to grant me breakthrough and ultimate victory. Did I mention how every time I weaned myself or abruptly stopped taking my medication, within two weeks I was downright suicidal, ready to take my life at a moment's notice? Again, Jesus had to lead me gently by the hand and convince me how important and necessary it was to adhere to a daily regimen of anti-depressants. Once I was finally able to understand and identify religious people's well meaning but damaging advice about "claiming my complete healing and walking away cold turkey from any and all medications" as harmful to me, then was I able to experience the equilibrium and mental clarity necessary to move into wholeness. I have become a staunch supporter of those who marry their faith with the gift of science granted from above in order to achieve healing. Some people don't agree with this but I have found it works in my life just fine. I am looking forward to the day when God's power breaks out in such a way that "supernatural" healing will be the norm and not the exception. I am counting on being there in the flesh to serve as a living witness, as a sign and a wonder to God's restorative healing power. Until then, you better believe I am going to adhere to my daily regimen of Wellbutrin, Sustiva, Valtrex, Tricor, Onandasetron, MS Contin, Hydromorphone, etc. and whatever other pill is prescribed to me in order to prolong my life and keep this temple breathing, loving, and laughing among the living.
"The kingdom suffers violence and the violent take it by force". I may be wrong in my personal interpretation of this scripture and that is okay since I believe this revelation was given to me by God so that I might understand the season I am living in. It clearly speaks to me that if I am going to be healed and be set free from the ravages of cancer, well, I am going to have to fight for it....with violence if necessary. I received the news today that my cancer has spread to my pelvic bone region. I'm reading up on the whole metastatic bone cancer thing as I write this. Trying to figure out what I need to do. How do I incorporate my faith with natural methods of healing? I have been bombarded lately with suggestions and possible solutions but ultimately it rests in my hands what I am to do.
I refuse to accept that this is how God wants to call me home. Cancer will have no part in my life. I am not going out this way! Forget about all the things yet to be accomplished and fulfilled, I cannot manipulate God to do as I say. If it were so, He would not be God or at least not a God worth giving your life wholeheartedly to. I will keep reminding Him of His word which does not return back void but I will keep believing in faith that He is for me and not against me...that if we being mortals know how to give our children good gifts how much more will my Heavenly Father grant me above and beyond what "we" are asking Him for.
Crooked Notes by Idilio Rivera is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
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