Sunday, November 29, 2009

Some days

I really wonder who or what I pissed off so damn much, to have to live like I do. Sure I'm a whiner and a complainer. You all know the myriad of auto immune diseases I suffer from, and have had to read over the years in this and other Blogs how they attack my day to day. How they affect my life. I always try to get out of bed, that may not sound like a big deal to you gentle reader, but let me tell you, some days it's all I can accomplish. Sure I may only get as far as the couch, but hey, props to me for getting that far.

I'm stuck again, every year is like this, not just at winter but at random times to keep me living the nightmare. I can recognize the signs, the body betrayal so I know when I'm going to flare,I've also Blogged about how I can do bupkiss about it. It's gonna attack come Hell or high with it.

I try, in my everyday to maintain the party line, I say platitudes to my family and friends, things like; "What doesn't kill me." or, "It's not as bad as last year." or, "I'll be fine as long as I don't give into it." or,"I have good days and bad days."

Well I have to say, "I've FUCKING had enough, I give, Uncle." What the fuck did I ever do to deserve this? Believe me, I've earned the right to rail and moan. I'm sick and bloody tired of making my pain easier on everyone else. I hurt. Since 1996, I've hurt. There's good days, to me a good day is a pain level of 5 with otc pain killers on board (6 or 8 extra strength tylenol or advil)
I repeat that's a good day. A bad day, I want to shoot myself, that's 4 or 5 T3's and 2 oxycodone, and the pain is an 8 still.

When a person is in that much pain, the little things aren't important. You don't give a flying fuck if the house is vacuumed, the dishes done, the bills paid. Who really cares? I find it hard to muster the enthusiasm for much. The fact that I can communicate with a handful of friends, is a miracle.

Take today for instance, Buzz was baptised. I make light of it but the fact that he and the Girl are Christians is just fair dinkum with me. I used to be, I still believe, although I can't reconcile a fair God with my last twenty years or so, that's my problem though. Anyway I went to church (I didn't blow up) to support my husband in this monumental life's journey he's embarked on, I even teared up. I managed to sit and shift for about 90 minutes or so, then the spasms started, excruciating. I got angry, what do I need to do?

I can't even sit for two hours without screaming from the pain. Is that fair? Do I need to sacrifice a cat? (goes to my angry God belief) I tell you I'm at my wits end; my emotional/physical well being and sense of humor have fled the building. I'm damn tired. I hate my puffy body, prednisone piggy, I hate that I can't do much. I hate trying to be positive. I hate getting out of bed, seriously what's the point? Maybe I should give into it and become a druggie or a lush.

1 comment:

  1. luckily, somehow you DO still have your sense of humour......loving you! :)