Okay, I wasn’t really kicked out. I was, however, sent home early. When I told the PT how deeply tired I have been, and explained how much pain I have been in the last few days, he put a cold wrap around my neck for ten minutes to try to control some of the maddening buzzing and tingling in my legs (nope), then sent me home.
I went into the hospital a month ago yesterday. This particular phase of my current flareup (which began way back in October), started eight days before I got into Beaumont. Feeling pretty angry and frustrated today. I don’t doubt God, and I’m not mad at God, it’s just coming from (I think) the constant uselessness and unreliability of my body. Heck, if I had a car that had been as useless and unreliable as my body has been the past five weeks, I’d be frustrated.
Right now the pain is the worst part of it, followed by the fatigue, followed by the deep loneliness of not being able to really explain this adequately to anybody, with the frustration and difficulty of walking (even though it looks good) placing a distant fourth. This morning I met with a group of pastor friends who were asking some questions and as soon as I opened my mouth to speak I felt frustrated. I barely know how to capture this in writing, much less in casual conversation.
Spiritually I feel dry, empty, used up, like I’ve got nothing left, like I used all my emotional and spiritual resources to get through my hospital stay, and every day I’m hollowing out inside. That sense of being hollowed out is part of the experience of suffering and no one — Christian or otherwise — gets to take a pass on it.
As I said I do not feel angry at God. It’s worse. I feel nothing at all, save the weight of these seemingly endless hours.