On Pain

The last time was at St. Francis (for myself)in
2008 for an exploded ovarian cyst. At the time of rupture,
sitting on a toilet of course, i thought it was the
beginning of my monthly cramps. A few moments later it
was obvious this pain was something different.
As i shuffled out the bathroom with this intense pain,
constantly throbbing, slowly curling me into an upright
fetal position or as i would like to call it-- the grandma
with osteoarthritis- i told my bf to take me to the ER.
Normally he'd be skeptical and annoyed but this time the
"i'm not fucking around" look on my face made him move
pretty quickly.

so i get to the ER and i have to fill out a bunch of paperwork
which sucks but i'm admitted almost immediately because the look
on my face said "i'm not fucking around". A pasty ass face,
dilated eyes and cold sweating cannot be faked. Almost
immediately my nurse asks me, "are you pregnant?" Answer "No."
"Are you sure you're not pregnant?" Emphatically, " No!"
Nurse: We'll take a pregnancy test anyway, I'm going to need
a urine sample." Wait, my head is starting to hurt
"We're gonna take a urine sample?"
She'd better be holding my hand.

So after an hour and a half and my urine sample indeed corroborates
my story that i am not in fact not pregnant, the next line of
query is "Have you been doing any drugs?" Answer, emphatically "NO!"
"Please, we need to know if you've taken anything...blah blah blah"
This is really starting to annoy me. This line of questioning
stops once my blood work comes in an hour later and it's obvious
that i'm just in a lot of pain, something that's causing my
white blood cells to be sky high.

Then comes the 20K question, "How much pain are you in?"
Answer, "UhaA lot of pain?"
Apparently i was to use my non- existent elocution abilities to
describe the pain or perhaps i was to lose a bit of
control and cry like a girl to explain this pain. i could do neither.
So then we played the number game, "On a scale of 1-10, 1 being the least
and 10 being the worst, how much pain are you in?"
Answer, " It's an eight". This number of course means nothing
to my nurse who's probably seen people with broken limbs come in
and say their pain is a five.

My invisible wounds cannot be quantified-- so much for empathy.

Solution: A liter of yellow dye that tastes like lemonade,
four MRI scans that show an explosion by the left ovary,
and lots of painkillers.

So i come to the point of this long ass blog and embarrassing
story to say that i fucking hate being in pain.
Pain is acute, sharp, blunt, dull, stupefying, blinding but mostly
isolating. There are no meters or stress tests to show
how much pain a person is in. Despite the cliché "I feel your pain"
we cannot feel each other's pain. Some people cannot even
begin to fathom or consider another person's feelings much
less "their pain". Platitudes are especially annoying when
one is in pain, "You'll get through this. We've all gone through
it. I know how you're feeling." There's nothing like
physical or mental pain to make you realize how truly lonely you are.

Mana

i ka olelo no ke ola
i ka olelo no ke make

in words there is life,
in words there is death.

once i asked you in a drunken stupor if you had great mana.
you paused as if you didn't know how to answer my question
and then you answered, "Yes, i could say i have a lot of mana."
this was one of many lies you gave life to.

bernadette mayer spoof

Whole Lotta Crap

I am sleeping ~~~
Awake!
There are cashiers ringing,
Supervisors singing or squealing
My hands are blurring lines of flour on countertops
And counting bills, making change and bagging
Things I will touch once or twice but will be eaten,
Like the Pink/ Green Tipped- Dragon fruit that became the Emperor and Empress of Japan’s Breakfast, or the yellow soft brie that will be
Eaten their lunch. No Panic, Go Organic!
Next to me is the best/worst coworker,
She/He likes to ring things real slowly,
Always making long conversations and ringing and packing
really slowly,
If only, She or He would ring a little bit faster,
I would be less stressed out when I come home to my Mom, my Dad and my two sisters, friends, barbecues and ice creams…. Yummy Tahitian Vanilla, SHIT!
You are now staring at me,
I’m very sorry,
I forgot to push that little button, and now there is a line,
That forms and winds all along the isles,
You, Sir or Ma’am I am very sorry, I did not take your change
Or credit card, and I blanked out in the middle
Of The Transaction, You asked me a question
Like “How are you” like you cared about my well being,
And I stared at you
stupid,
Like “I hate small talk” and “You’re being way too personal”
I glare at you,
Like “I hate going through these motions”.
Sometimes In these situations,
I wonder if I have Aspergers or some other kinda disorder,
I really dislike, FUCK! I hate looking people in the eye,
It makes me uncomfortable and gives me the willies,
Like Banjo Pluckin, Swamp Rat- Hillbillies, and now
You are ANGRY because
I’ve been smiling but not paying attention,
Like I should be licking your face while I ring up your groceries and be your surrogate
Mother, who came with you free but unwilling.
Would you like to sample some chocolate?
Too many words, and not enough substance is being
exchanged here
Money is really dirty,
My God, is it really only three thirty? I get off of work in only twelve hours. People here are afraid of Canola and Corn,
They think it will give them cancer,
They do not like when their fruits touch the register belt, but they
Pay in cashes EBT checks in Express there’s nothing
Express about the elderly.
Would you like to purchase a reusable plastic bag
to forget in your car home trunk backseat other car?
You ask “How do they treat you here?”
I say “Very well Sir or Maam.” We’re all about team member empowerment here.