They say pain demands to be felt. Yea, I feel it pushing and shoving my poor body. It hurts so bad that I beg death to just spare me this one and put a stop to it all. Anyways life says, “we are not yet done so you gotta stay alive”. I keep on dosing myself with them painkillers, but they must have reached their resistance levels. All I do is moan and groan in my lone space. Thank Heavens, I still can write, this is one part that has brought a weak smile on my sickly face. If I call home and tell them I’m dying, they will panic and rush to take me, yet I know the pain will vanish in a day or so. Its a very common ailment that has bothered me eversince I was twelve. Alter call after alter call, I heed to it, is it just my little faith 🤷🏿♀️, geez I wonder ! It really does bother me though. The guys in white coats advised to monitor my lifestyle towards that time when my ovarian egg hatches, but alas nothing suffices. Talk about going back to my African tradition, muthis , incarnations , bitter herbal teas uhh yuck🤢, were all pointless for my biological makeup. I wonder if I followed the instructions properly🤔. Some told me giving birth was the only way out, how I loathed the snail pace it took for me to be a mother so as to be freed from this sickness. Now, 10+ years later, a mother but look at me I’m writing whilst in bed, neither can I sit nor walk, how ironic😄. It literally feels like someone pressed the pain button on a remote control each time the pain sets in. It has taken over all my joints, weakening them whilst my head is cracking. Though it at times works, the hot water bottle therapy burns like hell 🤦🏾♀.
Send them get well soons and prayers, maybe I will be just fine…
Tales Of Tabitha 