But do I take the last Vicodin I have?
Do I call the doctor?
Do I go to the ER?
If you're not bleeding, stop crying.
Ghostly words from the past.
I grew up watching my mother ignore everyone's pain.
To have her abuse me and ignore the injuries I came to her with.
Fell as a teenager on the oval round step stones in the front yard. Inch and 1/2 DEEP gash across my knee. In-need-of-stitches-deep.
She looks under the bloody wash cloth. Grimaces and says, "Yup, needs stitches. But it isn't going to show, so just tape it."
you wicked bitch...are you saying I am invisible? that no one can see me?
I see that scar every day. EVERY DAMN DAY YOU BITCH. I DOES TOO SHOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Older sister twist ankle. Beautiful shades of angry purple-blue. Ace wrap and crutches.
not long after that I slip in the kitchen and wrench my foot in the arch area....I felt something tear. I craw to her on hands and knees.
hands and knees
She looks at my foot.
"Its not bruising, so there is nothing wrong with it."
FUCK YOU DR. MAMA.....and your X-ray vision....I crawl away.
.....the torn ligaments never heal. My foot permanently jacked up.
I run 4 seasons of cross-country on that foot before a coach even stops to ask why I limp after practice. He looks at my foot and says. "Go straight home and show your parents."
yeah....yeah, right coach. She already said there was nothing wrong, and I just saw her make my father go to work in hideous pain.
I have had it pounded into my soul that the only pain one can be in is the kind you can see.
blood = pain.
Even then....shit....that is not enough.....a limb must be dangling by tendons.
I am afraid to go for help....
I am afraid of having the ER staff tell me they can't find a reason for my pain.
I AM AFRAID
I am afraid that I will let the pain get to the point I will take a crow bar and attempt to amputate my foot. I would rather face that then face a doctor echoing mama's words.
So I crimp around the house tonight in sheer agony. Tortured by the numb toes and plantar fasciitis in my right foot. Unable to seek help because of a ghost in my head. I am bleeping 49 years old and I can't even over come this. Why hasn't some evil organization drafted my mother into its ranks? Surely her brainwashing skills are the envy of all.
Sticks and stones will break my bones,
but words will never harm me.
Wanna bet on that?