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.