This is what happens when you upset the fabric of the universe; when you do what you aren't supposed to do; when you break free from the line you are supposed to be on. In a way, the higher powers of the world attempt to slap you back into order like a unruly boy scout. This is where the pain comes from. The simplest part of any act is the act itself. Trouble always finds the person in the 'pre' and 'post' stages. Doing is not hard. Unless the doing is something that is hard (e.g. Running a marathon), but it generally isn't. Pre-action minds are filled with doubt, nerves, anger, fear, doubt and nerves. Post-action is filled with, well, that's what I'm dealing with now. The post-action fall out.
I have been cursed.
Dateline: Monday Morning. As first reported here, I quit my job.
Dateline: Monday Afternoon. Phone call to my Mom who seems much more interested in my acquisition of health insurance. My response, "Mom, I'll figure it out, don't worry". Cue foreboding music indicating that this might be a moment of foreshadowing.
Dateline: Monday Night. Second half of my recreational soccer match. As to heed my Mom's warnings, I play the game while favoring my previously injured right ankle. All seems well until the dreaded turf monster leaps up and grabs my healthy ankle. Boom, rolled ankle. I take myself out of the game and nurse my already bloating ankle.
Dateline: Tuesday Morning: The ankle is still in pain, well, both ankles actually. To make matters worse (Read: much worse) these conditions have been joined by what seems like a simple hangover headache. My first reaction is that this is odd as I did not have much to drink the previous night (The soccer team had imbibed at a local public house), but I took some painkillers anyway. What was the worst that could happen? I was in pain. I wanted it killed.
Dateline: Tuesday Afternoon: The headache persists, interestingly enough. I knew it was not hangover related. Take that, Alcohol! My mental victory is short lived, however, as the pain in my head has somehow morphed into a body-wide ache. Perhaps I am just stiff from the match less than twenty four hours ago. I hold out hopes as I down a few more painkillers
Dateline: Tuesday Late Afternoon: A new pain has shown its face after the numbness of the latest batch of painkillers wears off. This time my body aches in a way which clearly isn't stiffness. It is a pain encompassed in the essence of the body. It is not related to muscles. My skin hurts from the inside. I feel both cold and hot at the same time in the same places. Breathing becomes difficult as the heaving of my chest causes my back to hurt. Turning my eyes from side to side produces shooting pain. This cannot be good.
Dateline: Tuesday Night: Sleeping is impossible. I leave the bedroom and instead find solace in a book. This, coupled with more painkillers, makes the night more tolerable. As three in the morning shows its face, I try again to sleep. This attempt is met by a world record 232 tosses and turns in two hours. Sleep isn't happening this night.
Dateline: Wednesday and Thursday: A predictable trend of waking, feeling terrible, medicating, feeling good, relapsing, feeling terrible and so on finds me the next two days. I've always found pain to be a fascinating thing. What I find most interesting is how it cannot be expressed between people. No one will ever understand the pain I am in right now, just as I will never be able to fully comprehend the pain of another. Doctors and therapists often ask how much pain a patient thinks they are in. Well, based on what? Isn't this completely meaningless? Pain, much like art and beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. Furthermore, when do people make the decision that it is time to go to the doctor? At some point, an individual will say to themselves, I need to go to the doctor. For one person, this may be after flu like symptoms settle in, for others it may be hours after a kidney stone has made its presence known, and for others still this may be when they finally cough up a lung. I can't remember the last time I went to the doctor for a sickness and I surely wasn't going to start now with the whole lack of insurance thing. These are the things I think about at 4:17 AM.
I have been cursed.
I used to get sick quite a bit. I had chronic migraines (This was the biggie), but I was also susceptible to the yearly flu viruses and their ilk. As I grew up, so did my immune system. I rarely get sick anymore, in fact I cannot recall my last multiple day sickness. This all makes the current predicament much more tragically ironic. No one could write a script with this kind of twist without being harassed for predictability.
Nothing that is worth doing comes easily, everyone knows that. The question is, has my body turned on me to give me an obstacle to overcome during this transition period in my life or am I mentally weakening my body as to give myself an excuse to work less? Has the stress brought on in the pre-action caught up to me in the post-action or is the world simply against those who step out of line?
When it comes down to it, curses are only created to account for things that certain people don't want to take responsibility for (i.e. The Chicago Cubs). It is too easy to feel sorry for yourself when you are sick. It is too easy to feel sorry for yourself when you don't find success instantly. It is too easy to curb your expectations when they are not set by a faceless corporation and instead must come from within.
Only I (Or you) can take responsibility for a life lived. Time to get past the "Oh, woe is me" stage and get to the "living life" stage. In the end, it only takes one a slight tweak of your view on life to make things clear. Something as little as taking the "s" out.
I have been cured.
GRM
