Lipstick on a Pig
Lesions got me crazy. Pain derives from what I have become. And there’s no way for it to be measured. Materializing on the inside. That’s where it lives. In a body that despises me. Showing more respect to the MonSter than me.
I believe in more than pain, so, I attempt to make friends with the demon in my head. Trying to be happy, even through the bad times. But I learned the hard way - He is nobody’s friend.
Living between hope and fear
Muscle relaxers by the fistful. Struggling to maintain my grace. Teaching myself to sit in the chaos. Looking for answers to my woes. Scared to stop taking my medicine. But just as scared of the side effects. Wanting to try the newest fad cure. Excited medical marijuana has come to my area. Hoping it can make me feel normal, but I don’t want to change my routine. Afraid to awake the sleeping giant.
Existing through hardships
Living life in overdrive. Doctors tell me to get rest. Doing my best to slow it down. But exacerbations happen so fast. So unanticipated. It controls me. Hastily devouring and consuming all parts of my existence. Like a starving animal. It’s a hog swallowing my happiness whole. Eating everything. Leaving no crumbs.
MS changed everything
Amplified by flashbacks of how my life used to be. Shadows of my past float through my mind. I swear, I’m a different person than before. Before any symptoms. Before the progression. Before the doctor’s words altered everything. Leading me to a faithless future.
Trying my best to live this new existence. Falling asleep with tears in my eyes. Dreaming of the glory of something different.
The fear and unfairness of it all
Like a petal off a rose, I’m slowly fading out. Engulfed by fatigue and fear. Heat is the enemy. And confusion is his companion. Cloudy mind skewing my decisions.
Some person in Washington DC decides if I can get a new wheelchair. My insurance says they will not pay. My congressman says he can’t help. And my senator never returns my calls. Do they realize that chair is my legs?
Thinking about the Universe. How could this be my life? Arguing with the spirits. Constantly wondering, “Why me?”
Wishing and dreaming
I begin to lean on dogma. Looking for counseling. The preacher tells me, “God gives you what you can handle. Have more faith.”
So, I gave all my currency to the collection plate. And now I’m broke. Pocketbook empty. All my coins are at the bottom of the wishing well. But still, the dreams of this sick girl don’t seem to come true.
I turn to my friends. They all say they adore what I’m doing. They like how I handle adversity. I’m a symbol of inspiration. My online accounts are flooded with well wishes. They love seeing me happy. But it’s hard making others feel good when I feel so bad.
Nobody likes me when I’m down. So, I treat my life like a movie. Before anyone can witness it, I roll a red carpet over my problems to hide the pain. Setting up a happy ending. Snapping joyful social media pictures. Looking cheery. Flashing simulated smiles. But really, I’m just putting lipstick on a pig.
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