4668 Days
4,668 days of pain. 4,668 days of frustration. 4,668 days of not having the life I’d worked so hard to achieve.
I feel even further from whole now than ever before.
That’s the current count. Just thought I’d share.
Friends are like bras; a good one never lets you down
4,668 days of pain. 4,668 days of frustration. 4,668 days of not having the life I’d worked so hard to achieve.
I feel even further from whole now than ever before.
That’s the current count. Just thought I’d share.
Or maybe I should say woke up nightmaring, except I don’t think that’s a saying. Or even a word.
Woke up sobbing hysterically. It scared me to the core. I’ve never cried like that in my life. I couldn’t catch my breath. I couldn’t stop. I gave in to it for a few moments to see if that would help, and I guess it did, to an extent. But I remain shaken.
I’m currently going through another round of withdrawals from meds. This time, however, aside from the intense and unrelenting pain, I’m having more trouble with the antidepressants. I’m on two different antidepressants for pain management and have carefully been tapering off. Yet it seems to be hitting me harder this time. I’m not sure if that’s what’s behind the crying, or what. I only know I’m not faring well.
Waiting for the doctor to call back to advise me as to whether or not I go to the hospital, and if I do, what do I say?
This has been a nightmare. Twice in three months? No bueno. Especially when my crying scares away the cat. Yeah, that happened.
The only minor smile? title=”camping hedgehog” target=”_blank”>A camping hedgehog. Go figure.
My beautiful boy is 21 years old today.
He is a gift to all who know and love him.
What an amazing young man my Little Dude has grown up to be.
Happy birthday, kiddo! I love you so much!
I have friends in Las Vegas who are country music fans and friends who are fans of music of all kinds, so, of course, the news about the at the Jason Aldean concert has rattled me to the core.
If I still lived there, I could have easily been at that very event.
Everyone is accounted for and safe, though my friend’s husband will likely need help after witnessing the shooting. He was there. It took until just this past hour for him to let his wife know he was okay.
As she wrote on Facebook, “he’s seen things no one should ever see.” I can’t even fathom how this will impact his life. I just thank God he wasn’t among the injured or dead. They have two very young children. They’re newlyweds. What would her life have been like if he’d been shot?
I can’t believe that anyone has to contemplate such things in this day and age.
I’m praying for everyone who was at this concert, anyone who knows someone who was there. I’m praying for an end to this violence that continues to plague our country. It must stop. It. Must. Stop.
Ever have one of those dreams where everything is off…by just a little bit? On the surface, everything seems normal, but there’s something not quite right? Well, I’ve been having dreams like that for the last month or so.
I know that it all comes down to not having the meds I need in the right doses, but it freaks me the fuck out.
Trying to keep everything in some sort of balance is difficult on a daily basis for most people. With chronic pain, it becomes a battle no one wants to fight, but one you must fight nevertheless. It’s your way of life. It’s all you know.
I was barely hanging on with all my meds. Now, I spend even more of my energy on just trying to get through the day with the least amount of pain. It messes up my life and comes through in my dreams. Which, of course, means I can’t even escape for the few hours I fall asleep.
Because I’m not taking my Ambien regularly, I’ve found I sleep longer when I do take it. Again, it doesn’t mean that sleep is more restful or restorative, but at least I’m asleep.
Still, when I awaken, I’m left feeling off-kilter.
It’s a bit like driving around on a flat tire — your spare, because you’ve already had a flat and the closest gas station is 100 miles away. At least, that’s what you think, only to discover that station closed and the next one isn’t even on any map. So you drive on because you’re in the middle of the desert and it’s too hot to wait for another car to come along and you have no cell service. Yeah, that’s a fairly apt analogy. You know you’re damaging the car, but you have no other choice. It’s push on or perish.
My doc, oh my wonderful doc, he’s doing his best to find a way to get me my meds, to push through my spinal cord stimulator, to get me back to feeling somewhat human. I’m so grateful. And I’m grateful for King Arthur for not killing me in my sleep for making his life crazy. Trust me, this is what I’d likely want to do if I were in his shoes. But, he doesn’t, or hasn’t been successful in his attempts. So, yeah, I’m grateful.
Here’s to another day of driving on a flat tire, throwing sparks into the brittle heat of the desert.