Assault...

It is so very, very hard to explain how this is not an exaggeration...

This early afternoon, I had a terrible, terrible bout of dysphagia.  It was another half hour or so of battling to get my food all the way down to my stomach.  Afterward, though, instead of just dealing with the shell shock of the episode, I endured hours and hours of lingering pain in my esophagus.  Every time I swallowed.  In between swallows.  SIGH.

I know the dysphagia will get worse.  I've know that since it started in March of last year.  I've know that since it was officially confirmed last September.  A while ago, I wrote about the worst episode yet.  That was awful.  And I couldn't fathom it being worse.  But hours and hour of pain once the swallowing problem ends is worse.

Most days, it happens here and there, a moment or two or three and then back to a working esophagus.  Some days, I have a bad spell that concerns me, but then it passes and I shove it out of my mind.  But today ... today ... I am felled by the many ways in which my body is battling me.  And it does feel like assault.  I know.  I've been there.  The pain and the sense of betrayal and the despair.  It is so very, very difficult to endure such assault.  It is so very, very, very difficult to continue on after such assaults.  SIGH.

In no small way does it help that I have my beloved Fluffernutter by my side at such times, for to say that I am lonely is a gross understatement.

Lonely.
Weary.
In pain.

Blasted esophagus!