The Pain Market

I am here once more,

At the crossroads- searching for answers to a question few understand

I enter the gates of the market.

Physicians there tout their cures

Preventatives, such as,  topamax, Pamelor, Corgard shine brightly at the booths, their colors displayed as candy.

The ER doctors tout IV DHE, Depakan, Benedryl, Phenergan, and toradol, but for the headache sufferer there is still no relief.

No Narcotics we are told- you will get addicted and so we suffer in silence forcing every nerve until we get relief.

The naturopath touts ginger, ginseng, and St.. johns wort and B complex- the orange setting off the yellow ginger in a colorful rainbow of hope.

Then the pain clinics line us up for boot camp attempting to give us the tools to cope with pain on out own. And again, we force our heart nerve and sinew to serve our turn through hell again.

The last resorts are in a small booth at the back- few have ventured this far into the carnival.

Under a bright red awning, there is a table scattered with narcotics- the doctors rarely come here- only for the worst cases and one prays that this will make it stop.

On the next table a dizzying array of mechanical supplies is displayed- stimulators and pain pumps, the last recourse of the desperate and we cling to the only things we have left in this world- faith and each other.

There is a tent as white as snow, bidding all to enter- inside is a quiet sanctuary, an altar, a chalice, holy bread and wine, the chism to bless and heal us. In this sanctuary, we finally can rest for a while. Above the alter, in bright letters, there is a window showing Christ’s ascension and the final words to the gospel of Matthew- “Lo, I am with you always, even unto the ending of the world.” And slowly, one feels refreshed, restored and we know we will live to fight another battle.