[hamstergirl]

who is telling me to react to my losses with joy, because they are only temporary. I won't be suffering like that in Heaven, he tells me.

He says that not everyone reacts to my type of situation with cynicism and despair.

Excuse me, old boy. But not everyone reacts well to the possibility that they are going to be on morphine for the rest of their lives...when they're only 33. It's on a hip that's been surgically removed...for pain relief. The other one is dislocated and there is a good chance that they are going to come for that one too...and ten years from now, we will be repeating the same scenario.

Right now, I'm on so much morphine, I'm having problems keeping awake and I haven't even taken any breakthrough doses yet and I need to kill the pain. If I do, I don't know what that will do to my ability to write, or drive my own wheelchair.

My pain is now so bad that I cannot sit on a toilet or even get dressed, that's why I'm taking so much morphine. They haven't even begun to run tests yet.

All my doc can do is pump more morphine into my system in the meantime.

Cynicism and despair are the order of the day when you've been messed up on by the best surgeons in the world. They took from me the ability to crawl, climb stairs, swim; in short to have a life. Because of them, it hurts to rub my feet with a towel or to cut my toenails. It has been this way for twenty years.

Until now, I could at least take comfort that the pain was only during certain times of the day, triggered by only certain actions. At least, I said, it's not constant.

I should have kept my big mouth shut.

It was surgery to relieve pain that led to all this and now I have to go with cap in hand for them to bail me out. I do not trust them as far as they can throw me. I still haven't even confronted my anger towards the people who did this, let alone forgiven them.

Now I face more screw-ups. The only thing they can take from me now is my life. I feel rage towards these people, towards my friend who is telling me to feel joy and towards a God who could allow this outrage to take place.

I sat there in church alone, wanting to let out one anguished, enraged howl. I squeezed an unopened pop can to death instead, in silence.

No one knows my rage or understands it. I need help

There is a thing more crippling than cerebral palsy: the prison of your own mind.

[Peanut61]

I hope you can see past this in Doug, ((((((Hamstergirl)))))), because, as you've so many times said, overall he has been a very supportive, consistent friend.

Simply, he isn't where you are, and he probably is not going to ever fully understand. From his perspective, I'm sure he believes what he is telling you will help, but I understand why it doesn't.

You don't want to lose the friendship, I know, so can you find a way to see past his limited understanding of how you are feeling and your experience of reality right now?

Thinking of you, Peanut

<font color=blue>HI FROM PEANUT</font color=blue>

[PlanningtoLive]

Peanut and Ozzie are on target.......from what I have read, you rely on Doug and care about him.

I believe in my faith but don't impose them on others. Can you overlook his statements and kind of let them go in one ear and out the other? The extreme ones I mean..........

He doesn't know the depths of your pain and never will - this is fact. Try to focus on the person and his support, not so much as what he says about religion so much.

Just my thoughts - with you. Take care, please. I hope the pain lessens.


Courage is fear that has said its prayers.
Dorothy Bernard

[hamstergirl]

The worst statements I got from him are the ones on self-pity. That was what my mother was always taunting me for.
It's also funny that he said that I only talked about myself...that's EASY when you are alone for 22 hours a day and are scared to go out because you're scared of meeting creeps like Richard.
My desire to isolate is much, much worse now. I sit awake at 2 in the morning and I don't want my attendant to come in the morning. I'm actually awake over this.
Father Lindsay is going to talk to Richard, but I'm terrified that it's just going to make matters a lot worse. He's gonna make my life a living *&^%. I'm going to have to go underground over this, for the rest of my life.
I'm never going to be able to lead a normal life, I know that but Doug doesn't know that and neither does Father Lindsay. I have to stay in hiding permanently to protect myself. What's worse, I can never let on to Doug just how badly I am hurting, because he will chalk it up to self-pity. I'm going to have to spend the rest of my life sending him jokes and Bible verses, because there's no way I can think positive. He's even accused me of not wanting to get better.

I want to get better. I'm sick of feeling miserable and exhausted. I want out of this deep dark pit. But I don't know HOW to get out. I'm feeling trapped in this whole mess. I HATE feeling like this for day after day.

I don't want to go on living like this. But I have to protect myself.

There is a thing more crippling than cerebral palsy: the prison of your own mind.