Variations

Empty Glasses

Do you look at world through glasses of green as grass, red as wine, blue as the sky? Or do you merely see your own reflection in the bottom of the empty glass?

Grey as yesterdays gone by.

Pain

Days are long. Nights even longer. I try to fill the painful hours with snooker on the TV. I paint a lot, slow movements of the brush, every drop of paint is a sign of pain.

Sciatica. Three weeks, each day getting worse. Last week I could walk a hundred meters, yesteraday ten. Weekly visits to the doctor with taxi, it’s impossible to use the bus.

Still strength in the muscles. Not yet time for operation. Maybe time heals.

I hope so.

The nerve ache stretches my leg funnily. I look at my leg, tell it to carry me to the toilet. It isn’t so co-operative.

Hasty minutes at the computer. A few words. A glimpse at other people’s blogs. Then the pain gets me going again. Limping around the rooms. Sitting after five steps. Trying to find a position to sleep for some moments.

Wondering should I call the ambulance now. Is the pain horrible enough? It is, but I don’t dial emergency. I want to stay home. I want to paint, to crochet, to forget the pain. In a hospital bed I’d have too much time to think.

Thinking makes pain worse.