Hello all. As per a request, I’m featuring a post from a guest blogger, Gabriel. ______________________________________________________________
Words are excruciatingly beautiful.
The effort of putting into words how wonderful words are is probably best left to philosophers and so I will simply allow the sentence above suffice for the moment.
I, after many months of waiting, finally underwent surgery to get my tonsils removed on October 23rd of this year. Major surgery to be certain, and one that everyone with the least bit of medical knowledge will tell you (oddly I find, with varied descriptions) how much it is going to fucking hurt.
The word pain is apparently not enough, to suffer is not enough, to writhe in agony is not enough. You must have hot knives pushed through your body by a legion of phantom torturers, you must experience being run over by the spiked treads of a tank and you must know what it is like to be roasted in the depths of a Slor, which, if you get that reference, you win the goddamn internet.
I’ve experienced pain, emotional pain where I thought I would die and physical pain I shrugged off, pain of many kinds, including a surgery a few years ago that did have some complications afterwards, luckily with no lasting effects. And let me tell you how much this surgery hurts: It hurts.
I am a writer, a wordsmith at heart, always have been. I’ve always loved flowery text and descriptive words you don’t see often, Celeste is fond of the word “Cathartic”, which is a fantastic word. I myself am insanely fond of the word “Sovereign”, the sound of the word is sublime to me, and possibly to me alone. But this surgery has taken my ability to speak without pain, to think without pain, and to move without pain. The pain is temporary and it will pass, but right now I am at the apex of suffering and I see no end to this torment that fills my days, my nights, and my dreams.
I wanted this post to be hundreds of words flowing like slow rivulets of fire that snake down a volcano after it erupts, as intelligent as the lava was hot, and as revealing as fire is destructive. But my drug and pain-addled mind offers me no such recourse, which is why I titled this post as such. The word “-ectomy” is described as “denoting surgical removal of a specified part of the body.” And yet I don’t feel like it was just my tonsils that were removed.
Every conversation I have, I painfully note every time I could fit in a favored quip or joke. Every conversation I am forced to wordlessly answer questions and rage at my inability to do so. Every conversation I am forced to listen, which has not lead to some great revelation about myself, fuck that, it sucks. Every meal is so forced that I nearly weep with effort and causes so much agony that in the past few days I have simply given up eating. Juice, milk, water all make me cringe as the stinging pain becomes a burning wound, and I have also given that up to the barest minimum.
I am average by all accounts, and my diet unashamedly consisted of high-octane crap. Soft drinks, deep fried anything, red meats, lots of empty calories and too much starch and salt and sugar, basically everything anyone with any self-respect for what they eat warned you about. Pain is the word I have to use to communicate what I feel, but this surgery feels like it has taken so much more away from me.
My words, my thoughts, my comforts, my activities, all gone. I don’t know what I hope to accomplish by writing all this down, or if this is even making any sense, but maybe it will help me in some way.
And through it all, I’m glad I have my best friend and my fiancee, who remind that even when in pain, life does not have to be about pain.