Small Miracles

Rate this Entry
'Usually when I wake up I canít remember.

I canít remember that I have this disease lurking inside me like the unwelcome spiders that scuttle around in the attic, stringing their webs between the support beams, wrapping their silky, sticky strings around anything and everything in the hopes of catching other insects unaware. I know itís there and yet every day this multi-legged bug still manages to catch me unawares.

The curtains are pulled closed and the blind is drawn down, plunging the small room into darkness. You canít tell that the walls are painted green like the first new shoots of spring, you canít see the empty picture hooks waiting patiently to display the best moments of family life and you can only just make out the dark hulking shape of my dressing gown where it hangs limply from a hook upon the back of the door.

It takes little effort to lie in the dark and wonder what time it is and even less effort to forget your own unwelcome inner spider web and turn your head to look for the clocks neon green glow. A loud crack of pain shoots through my neck and resonates through the silence, eyes slamming closed like heavy window shutters to block out the world again, a world Iíd barely seen yet today and still that small dose of day was enough for me already.

The alarm begins to shrill, its loud intrusive wail echoing around the room and with a grunt I slide my legs off the side of the bed and sit up, ignoring the pain that ebbs from each joint like small ripples on the disturbed surface of a pond. It takes a few attempts to find silence once more, the button on the alarm failing to respond but punching at it repeatedly with my finger makes me feel oddly good. If we can pick our battles and win these small ones, perhaps we might win our wars. I once read a quote somewhere and now it drifts lazily through my mind as I sit here upon the edge of the bed as though it were a cliff from which I was contemplating jumping; Ďthoughts become thingsí. Could I possibly think myself better? Doubtful really but you get nothing if you never try!

My next thought is of coffee and that one is a little easier to manifest out of mind into reality. With another series of cracking sounds, a light grumble and a few huffs of pain fuelled breaths I push up from the bed and make my way downstairs in search of small miracles.'
Tags: None Add / Edit Tags


  1. Bonita's Avatar
    That is a good way to put this. Bonita even though i hate spiders Bonita
  2. Bonita's Avatar
    My small miracles come in the package of my two youngest grandchildren when i watch them. Some days it is rough but they give me a future to look forward to. At 61 i feel bad some days.
  3. Numpty's Avatar
    Hey Bonita!

    I hate spiders too.. with a passion ~lol~ Which is why I never venture up into the attic in my house!

    Sometimes there is no better meds than a childs smile, so you hang in there! And remember, when you feel bad we're usually only a message away so always feel free to send any of us one! ~hugs~

    I entered a writing competition recently with a bit about sitting in a hospital waiting room to see my Rheumy so I thought I'd keep writing about my lupus thoughts and feelings and see where it takes me. Thoughts become things!

    Claire x
  4. Millie's Avatar
    This was great! I mean your writing, obviously not the pain in the morning. Which we all now is horrible, just like spiders. Looking forward to reading more from you. Keep on writing. I've been wondering about that 'thoughts become things' thingy as well, but I'm not there yet. Wonder if I ever will be.

    Lots of Love.