Low Valley Days

When the sting of the hot water 

hides the sting in your eyes and

you feel the salt hit your wounds, 

only to be re-opened everyday.

The salt reminds you, 

you’re not you anymore.

And I’m tired of telling everyone I’m OK,

But they don’t understand. 

No one could.

When they ask "how I feel," and "where it hurts"...and they want to know, "What are your "Low Valley Days" like?" 

So, let me just tell you... 

1. The feeling of glass cutting my esophagus as I swallow, that rolls straight into my lungs....so that later… when I hiccup? 

They cut my ribs.

2. Swallowing feels like sand paper and the food passes over my bleeding ulcers.... then it makes it's way down into my throat where more ulcers await. 

I'd rather scream until my throat dies. 

Then...at least I would be in control of why my throat is full of blood.  

3. Then the food I've just eaten hits my stomach, and it punches me hard enough to double me over. Which means that, of course, there isn't another bite after that... 

"I'm full," I say.

4. Oh and don’t worry about breathing...The feeling of a vice around my sternum that retaliates as I attempt to take a deep breath.... because that's when the spasms hit. 

And they tighten down on my spine... and then my heart.

I feel like I'm choking on pain.  

5. For 3 years, 5 months and X number of days, I've seen so many shooting stars. Inside and Out... I feel them along every rib...front and back and Shining from the unshed tears of my loved ones who surround my hospital bed... and there have been soooo sooo many hospital beds. 

Please don’t be confused by the beauty of these shooting stars.

I literally mean a burning ball of gas slowly dying into the atmosphere...

Don't you dare make a wish on this one.

6. And although sometimes I dream and pray to be numb.... that's when the REAL numbness hits. And it hits hard. Making my legs feel like a thousand pounds... being taken on "walks" so that I don't forget how to stand or walk on my own. Humiliating. 

I have to sit down in my standing shower and let the water disguise my pain. 

Watching the tears disappear into the drain. One by one.

7. Then, there’s that lump... the lump in the back of my throat. When I'm trying so hard to not wake my blissfully unaware spouse. 

I suffocate as I hold in the sob that's trying desperately to escape. 

I fall asleep beneath salted pillowcases almost nightly. 

8. The sympathy looks I get from my friends and family. Because I'm not "me" anymore... 

They are seeing me as fragile; Weak.

Rather than the woman who was independent. 

Strong. Capable. No one to mess with.

9. PTSD. It's real and it's a monster I hate to describe. 

But if anyone else experienced those horrors that replay in my mind late at night.... You and I would have a shared look in our eyes when someone casually mentions a hospital.

10. And the fear... the fear of telling anyone that "YES... I'm terrified." 

Because that means I'm weak.

It means I don't have faith. 

That I don't trust my doctors... 

my family... Heavenly Father. 

But most of all, I'm scared that I'll always be this way. 

And yeah, today... I'm gonna play the "victim" card... because when you've experienced some of the horrors that I have... not once, not twice, but THREE horrific traumas? 

Yes, today, I can be a victim. 

It was all taken from me... I didn’t choose this. 

And, today, I'm scared.

AND THIS.... is my "Low Valley Day."