Amputation

As usual, I have gone about this all wrong. In my defense, is there a right way to cut-off a limb with out anesthetic? I think it is natural to try desperately to avoid a pain this great. I acted strong and brazen at first, the macho attitude that only those who don't know what is coming next can brandish. As the reality began to hit me, settling in the pit of my stomach, I ran. I thrashed and screamed and desperately tried to find relief. I surrounded myself with my friends and allies, trying to build up my defenses through their support and distraction. That is not possible though. This is something that by definition must be done alone. And alone I began to feel the full weight of the agony.

I had fitful sleep last night that only came in short bursts. There is nowhere to run from the sawing, cutting pain. There is no relief to be found in sleep, in a bottle or in anyone else. It is noon and he is still not home. No call, no text. I look at the phone and think about checking-in, asking if he is alright, but I have to stop myself. It is unnatural and hideous, yet I can't stop cutting because it would not be fair to go back now. He is the only one I should to talk to, though that will only drive the blade in deeper.

The voice in my head whimpers, "I love him, I miss him, how can I live without someone who has become a part of me?" Something is broken though, we can't keep playing house with the cracks in our walls becoming gaping fissions. I just don't know how something that feels so necessary can feel so devastatingly wrong. It feels exactly like cutting off a limb.

The pain is staggering. My body shakes and I feel razor blades dancing inside me. It seems there is no relief in sight, but I want to do it right this time. I don't want to run, I don't want to beg, I don't want to desperately tear apart my life looking for an anesthetic. I want to be strong and pray that at some point it at least feels right. I can suffer for something I believe in, but it is a new form of torture; to feel this horrendous pain accompanied by doubt.

My baby brother, the one I protect, the one I would unhesitatingly sacrifice for, it was him who stopped my shaking. A simple call, no words of affirmation, just quiet love and empathy. He did not pretend to understand, he is the first person to show as little comprehension of this cruel reality as I myself feel. Something about that gave me my first real comfort. This cannot be analysed or rationalized, it is just one of the deepest pains of life. It just is.

I have been to hell before, though I haven't been back for long time. It is different every time, it always feels as though I will never see the light again. The light somehow finds me though. I have been there and back and I know I can make it back to the light again. For now I suppose I will just clench my teeth and try to be brave.

I had surgery when I was in Iraq. The dirty operating table looked like something from a horror movie or a third world country's abortion clinic. The needle they used on me was huge and filled with what felt like sulfuric acid, later they had to cauterize my incisions without any anesthetic. I remember how proud I was when the doctor commended me for not screaming, for taking all that horror and pain without so much as a whimper. This is worse, but maybe God will give me the strength to get through this with the same bravery, without becoming the pathetic, thrashing woman I have seen claw at the walls of hell before. Maybe this time I can do it the right way.