Journal 2005. At the beginning of the century, an infected tooth sent inflammation raging through my body. I didn’t know the source at the time, and it took three doctors to help me get it under control. Vioxx makes my ears ring constantly, and I’m about to try Celebrex instead. I wonder how I’ll respond to it. Right now, I’m relatively pain-free—as long as I don’t overdo. Hands, feet, eyes, and back are the weakest.

I want to record my journey with pain, and I start while I’m feeling fairly well. I know my perspective will progressively change over time—just as emotional healing changes us inwardly. Right now, I want to avoid pain. It gets in the way of my to-do list, but I don’t want to be dominated by it.

I don’t want to be a whiner or a complainer. I don’t want to be a baby, but I also am no hero when it comes to pain endurance. I’m quick to run to relief wherever I can find it. I don’t want the attention or focus to be on me, but when I’m hurting, I need to let people know so that they don’t expect too much of me. I pretty much want to be left alone to my misery. Chronic pain vs. temporary seems different, however. If it’s temporary (like a cut finger or the flu), I’ll tell all. If it’s chronic, I’ll keep my mouth shut unless I know a solution.

I don’t want my life to revolve around my health. But if I were sick with cancer, it would have to. That’s where my focus would lie. In my emotional healing journey, I’ve allowed myself the luxury of focusing on the pain so I can get through it and past it. Why am I so reluctant to do the same with the body? It’s so temporal—yet it is the vessel God gave me by which I function. What good does it do anyone if I’m in bed? Guess I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.

A 2022 Update. Today I am off all medication and doing much better. Unfortunately, in 2016 a bout of shingles attacked my right eye, and I’ve battled flare-ups once or twice a year ever since. But I’m not in pain, so all is well. I’d prefer not to have to learn any more pain lessons, please.