The Creator Of Immortality

The question is for me right now, is whether these two 20 mg tablets of prednisone will alleviate the pain I'm experiencing. I don't have that many of them. The doctor at the VA Hospital cut back the length of the dosage to two day intervals instead of five. I put off taking them until this morning. I wanted to witness how the pain would return. I'm watching from a much different perspective.

Rheumatoid arthritis is the pain that keeps on giving. Previous to being diagnosed with it I considered all the little aches and pains as temporary ill-nesses that would eventually go away. Up until the last couple of years they did go away, and when they didn't, and I received the results of the blood work from my doctor, I knew I'd have to deal with it for the rest of my life, barring a medical miracle.

I still ain't give it up to the idea that it's curable, my aunt had it for sixty odd years after she gave birth to her first child. It runs in the family on my mother's side. Like with me, her's didn't crank up until she was older.

Since I've come to expect that I'm going to have this dis-ease for the rest of my natural-born days, I figure I might as well turn my attention to what I can do to make myself as comfortable as possible until I do croak. Just now, the muscles in the fleshy part of my thumb started cramping, and I had to stop and force it to straighten out and stop hurting before I could go on. That doesn't bode well.

The most troublesome area of my body this disease is affecting in the back of my neck. I've had what amounts to a tension headache 24/7 for a week now. At night I have to keep rolling over to the other side to get some relief and some sleep. Precious sleep. Not only am I in intense pain, but I don't lose consciousness of it much by going to sleep. I feel my brain hurt in spasms that's worrisome.

Unless I can turn this pain into sexual pleasure I'm probably gonna hate my body when I croak. I can easily imagine the entirety of my mental powers will focus on that hatred, and it's all I'll be aware of when I shift gears.

I really hate the thought of being totally dependent on steroids to relieve this pain. They relieve the pain because they're the most powerful anti-inflammants known to man. The way it's described in the literature I'm in a slow process of self-immolation. Maybe there is a way I can speed the process up, and have it over with in a flash. A jumping jack flash. Pop goes the weasel.

I can say this with certitude. I'm already aware that this hurting can hurt so bad I would perform any act known to man to relieve it. I don't know how much good not having no shame will get me, but I've been practicing a long time now, and it seems like the life of this particular body is dancing on the precipice now.

I took the pills about two hours ago. Things are not any different yet except for the mental boost taking them gave me. That didn't last long. I'm wanting some real relief. It's all I want right now. I can't even think of any thing else for the sake of diversion.

I may regret learning to hear through my skin using the Neurophone gadget I bought. Even though the audiologist at the VA told me I was legally deaf. I'm hearing things that happen around the house to the point of irritability currently. Trucks that usually turn up the paved road almost a half mile away rattle my brain as they grind their way through their gears. I hear a pen full of dogs howling over two miles away, and the noise of the large mechanical room at the Wal-Mart SuperCenter two and a half miles away, as though it was next door. My brother's riding lawn mower drives me nuts sometime, when nobody else seems too disturbed by it.

So, I'm sitting here in debilitating pain, waiting to see how long it will take for the 40 mg of prednisone to take effect. hoping it'll ease the pain off to find out if I can stretch the pills I do have out a little longer. It's easier to tolerate pain if I have a sure way I can get relief from it in a reasonable amount of time. The persistent images of what I'm feeling right now progressing into sheer helplessness is not a happy thought.

This is like the calico print whirlpool I was confronted with when I inhaled three huge lungfuls of diviner's sage smoke into my lungs. The gingham whirlpool left my body behind and sucked the essence of me into into itself as this crazy, cackling, very familiar voice screeched, "Here we go again!" Back to everything turning into one thing again. It is me. I am is All of It which is Me. Then, BOOM1, everything I made myself into as amusement disappears, and there is only Me again. "...thou shalt have no Other."

This seems similar to my sister-in-law's vision of seeing God. The way she tells it, God showed itself to her. First as an old man with a long white beard and flowing white robes, and then BOOM!, he became a nakid child in her next heartbeat. The child laughed at her amazement, then BOOM! the child became an old man again, and the old man laughed at her amazement.

Whatever that is... IS... the creator. The creator of our own illusions. BOOM!

I suspect the docetic spirit that is the essence of me is teaching me to let go my abstract mental baggage and abandon the world of ideas I pump myself up with to feel important. This may be intended as a value-added experience, being a spiritual creature attempting to have a human experience, but the value-added part is not chosen by the human, which may be, in fact, being taught it's merely a pawn used to provide that added-value.