So, I wake up at 5am with muscle spasms.
These spasms result in pain exquisite and tangible.
Unlike my psuedoseizures, the
cause is not all in my head. The fault is in
the erector spinae that seem to have become
sadistic BDSM participants who do not hear
my safe words to stop causing me pain.
Really bad muscle spasms.
My intertransverse muscles are the ones
that make my back the happy S shape that it is.
We have a love hate relationship.
Without the “ITV” muscle’s tight hold on my spine,
I would be six foot five inches tall.
My body hates me and wants to quit spasms
bend my back deeper into my scoliosis spasms
Where that might be somebody’s dream,
I cannot imagine being as tall as my son
knocking my head on low ceilings. Wait!
I already knock my head on ceilings and
the occasional doorway so what’s the difference?
The Silent Sentinel is proud of his height
and seems to have accepted that he will never
be invisible again. He revels in silently walking
up behind a tiny person and scaring the bejesus
out of them when they turn around and see him
smiling down at them. It goes something like this:
Two students are having a conversation.
One starts smiling. The other says,
“What? What’s so funny? It’s SS isn’t it?”
They turn around and stare at his waist or chest.
“I didn’t even hear you walk up to me. How do you do that?”
The pain and new meds derail the train station of thought that I have
had running through my head for my entire life. I’m not having fun
It’s like picking words out of thorn bushes. I’m going back to sleep.