Heartbreak and robots

You know how when you go into the hospital and they ask you to rate your pain level on a scale of one to ten, with ten being the absolute worst amount of physical agony any human being could possibly withstand, and one being the tiny hot prick of a splinter or a blister?

As I was standing beneath boiling hot water and crying so hard I couldn’t breathe, I came to the stunning realization that they need to have one of those scales for emotional pain as well. Ten could be, my heart’s broken in a million tiny shards at my feet and I can’t move ’cause if I do I’ll break one or cut myself so there’s no where safe for me to go and nothing safe for me to do…and one would be the normal daily amount any sane person will feel from watching the news or driving through traffic or paying bills. There’s always at least a drop of emotional pain of one kind or another through out the day, after all, so there has to be a one.

Or maybe it could be a scale that measures how much feeling you’re feeling. 10 would be too much, five would be just about right, zero would be my normal daily bleep on the radar screen…nothing.

And then on days like today when the crack in the wall breaks open and the feelings come rushing out, too much, too fast, I’d be like a…20. Or a 2000.

And maybe on those days when your rating on the scale is higher than you want it to be, they could prescribe you some relief…a long nap in a warm bed with a soft warm body to listen and respond to your grieving at the appropriate moments and never throw them back in your face later. It could even be a robot, for all I care, one with a stuffed animal-ish, human sized body and lots of fleece to cuddle on. It could be programmed to rub your back as often as you want it to, and say any of of a thousand combinations of tender, appreciative, understanding words and phrases. You could just lay there and complain and cry and get it all out without feeling alone…and then you could sleep and wake up and be back to your nice and cozy and comfy 0. And the robot would be gone, so you wouldn’t have to deal with any strings or repercussions or anything of that nature…but you could always call it back whenever you really really need it.

I could use that robot right now. And if he’d rub the back of my head and bring me Rocky Road with milk in it I’d die of sheer happiness…seriously.

So who’s with me for petitioning the medical community at large to develop this idea into something that involves a real prescription pad and a custom made robot thing? Let me know…in the mean time my scalding hot shower will have to suffice. At least it’s warm and doesn’t argue back.


About messymama
I'm a SAHM with a busy schedule and a love of too many things to count! I sew, I write, I draw, and I love to create. I'm always on the lookout for a new project idea. One other very important thing about me - my house is in a continual state of upheaval and mess. Slowly but surely I'm working through the piles and boxes, but I am still in the process, and some days it seems like it would be much easier to pack up and move!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: