I’ve been having a hard time lately. My mother and I have Jude the Great Nephew every day. I do what I can to assist her, but sometimes I feel like it isn’t enough. Doing chores around the house is sort of like torture. I don’t enjoy anything I do; not even darts or playing with Lola the Destroyer. All of it because I hurt all the time.
However, the big one: I can’t find my funny and I’m struggling to get anything written, let alone anything funny. This is officially interfering with my every day life. Something has got to be done.
I don’t feel “sad” like one excepts when the word “depression” is mentioned. I feel indifferent and blah. I feel worthless because I can’t do much. A trip to the grocery store causes my spine to start popping and once that happens, the very act of walking is a challenge.
Yesterday, I cancelled plans with my best friend. Plans I had been looking forward to for months. If I was a crier, I probably would have cried. Unfortunately, I’m not and that’s part of the problem.
If I cried every time I went to the doctor’s office, they might do more to manage my pain. If I wasn’t so pain tolerant, they might also do more. However, I can tell them how much I hurt, but it doesn’t sink in because I can still stand up and walk around and considering how much those activities hurt, I shouldn’t be.
Most days, I’d put my pain at a 9. I feel nauseated by the time evening arrives because I hurt and I’m exhausted. And it’s more than just my back that hurts. My legs hurt. My feet tingle. Neither feels like it should be able to support my weight. But my 9 and everyone else’s 9 seems to be different. Most people can’t function at a 9. I can. I can function at a 10. I cut the tip of my finger off with a pair of scissors, it got a 4 despite the fact that I don’t really have a fingerprint left because of the scarring. The last ovarian cyst I had rupture was 15 centimeters by 9 centimeters. Considering an ovary is about a centimeter, it was huge – it got a 6. It dumped something like 800cc of fluid into my abdomen. I did go to the ER, but only because I knew it had been huge and I was worried it had damaged something, like an ovary, when it ruptured. However, I’ve gotten used to cysts, even large cysts, on my ovaries, so most of the time, I don’t bother with the ER or even a doctor.
Oddly, I’ll bawl over a papercut though, but I didn’t even flinch the last time I dislocated my shoulder. One of those things hurts a whole lot more than the other. I even put my shoulder back in by myself with little more than a grunt.
Yet, I feel like a junkie looking for a fix when I go into the doctor’s office and start demanding narcotics (I can’t take NSAIDS and steroids kinda bother my stomach too). So, most of the time, I don’t advocate for them. I ask about alternative methods to handle the pain.
However, the alternative method this time is doing nothing. I have an appointment this morning. I’m actually at it as this blog post publishes. Hopefully, I can find some sort of relief soon… I need to advocate better for myself. I’m great at doing it for others, I don’t know why I can’t do it for myself.