When you try to put your pain and its management into words
-AS
My Neurosurgery
- Originally posted on a 6s community on April 13, 2011 at 9:25am
Supine on my bed, I visualize the nerve chains that link my brain to my neck, my arms, my back; I focus on the occipital nerve, raw to the touch of my shirt, my sheet, my mattress. I imagine them as a knot of fine chain necklaces, and I breathe out all the distracting toxins holding me back from my own neurosurgery.
The fingers of my mind are petite, nimble, omnisciently discerning as they set about their untangling of the neck-laces. The burning coals centered under my collar bone on each side dissolve to cool ash; the daggers of continual agony retract from my shoulder blades; the pulsing electrical bite down my arms is tamed.
In the highest test of those mental surgeon’s hands, the double-edged sword is blessedly torn from its lodging into my brain stem through my spine and sheathed in velvet.
I send off the helpers with the usual trappings of heroism before rising out of the deep and centered place I had occupied; despite this glimpse of perfection, I will myself to rise and live before the tangle floors me once more.
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