Some people feel like they are all packed up and ready to go. They are already at the bus stop waiting for the bus to come and pick them up. They don’t have a guide as to when the bus will be coming. They ask us when the bus is coming, and we say we’re not sure but likely within hours to days. This can be frustrating for the questioner. They want to know how long they have to wait. They would prefer to be gone already. Their current location is no longer joyful, in fact, it may have become a place of suffering. They are ready to move on to the next destination. The preparation for the journey may have been difficult. They have had to pay more than they wanted to for the ticket.
The ones who have been used to being in control the most may be the most frustrated at their lack of control. They feel like they are no longer in the driver’s seat any more. They are at the whim of another force greater than they are. The sense of powerlessness and the inability to choose their own path must be hard to bear. They repeatedly ask when the bus will be coming.
Maybe they are waiting at the bus stop, but it is a train that is actually coming to pick them up. They are at the wrong station.
My little coronavirus rock band continue their tour of my body. They wrapped up their sold-out concert in my throat and the music was so loud my ears are still stinging. Today’s destination was my lumbar spine and they played their achy breaky music with gusto. No matter how often I stretched throughout the day the music of the band drowned out all other signals.
I have to be honest I am sick of all the merchandise the band brings along to each venue they play at. The congested stands of my nasal sinuses couldn’t stand the pressure any longer. The burning man set up in my throat yesterday is still smouldering and ready to reignite at a moment’s notice. The worn-out muscle fibres evidence that this band of players have worn out their welcome.
The uncertainty of each day of illness. Will I feel better when I wake up again? Will I be in less pain than yesterday? These are questions I am considering each day and are they similar to what my patients must ask themselves? I’ve only been unwell for a few days but my compassion for those who suffer from chronic illnesses is growing.
Maybe tomorrow the band will head down to my feet and then it will be my pleasure to kick them out of my body. There will be no request for an encore.