By Michael Casey
We'll all here again, riding the bike called pain, wishing we were still in bed, not a word being said. But the pain returns, the pain returns like a thief in the night. Stealing our happiness, destroying our calm, hurting us to the very core. SCREAM we scream again and again, hoping the pain will disappear but it does not. It just moves about, from one spot on my body to another, I'm like a child's toy, see if she can move a lever without making the light go on and the buzzer go off. But this is real too real to mention, SCREAM, I have to get up, it seems as if the very act of lying down brings on the pain. There is this pain and that pain, pain in the chest and pain in the heart itself, then a pain in the side, skeletal muscular pain, pain in the legs from where the veins were harvested to go in the heart. The list goes on an on, if only I could have a boring old headache. SO I'm here writing about it, what more can I do, once I'm so exhausted I start to fall asleep, and then I'll sleep though the pain. Ah well I'll trying going back to bed now, see if I sleep or SCREAM. So please have patience with you old and sick relatives, hold their hand and kiss them on the cheek, one day it will be your turn, so just try and love them, and pray for them and me too.
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