Friday, April 4, 2008
"My heart is crippled by the vein that I keep on closing
You cut me open, and I keep bleeding..."
I'm sitting on my couch right now after a grueling stretch/PT session (it's been a painful 24 hours). You see, I have to wait a while before I will be able to stand up long enough to take a shower semi-comfortably. Across my finished basment, I can see pairs of socks placed randomly, and I can picture several other locations throughout my house where I have taken them off and left them. It's as if each little bundle represents yet another moment where my pain has been too great to even bare the pressure of a cotton sock on my foot. Like little battle zones...
I foolishly agreed to go to a film screening (that was yesterday) with a friend a month in advance, thinking that I could do something so simple (that NEVER crosses the minds of most individuals) as make plans early. While the night was lovely, the film was phenomenal, the company was precious, and my dress was exquisite, :-) it ended as most nights out end... with me in a lot of pain, feeling like a burden, and exiting quietly so as to not ruin the night for everyone else. Because the only seats that were available were the ones we sat in to watch the film, I spent half the night in a very familiar place, sitting on the floor, while all the "normals" mingled. The view from sitting on a floor around "normals" is quite an interesting perspective and one that I wish I could experience only once or twice in my lifetime. But, alas, I sat upon my thrown staring up at all the people I wish I could be just for one night.
I still get the feeling that most people, even family members, have no idea how disabling my disease is sometimes because I am so damn tough AND because I have the occasional "good day." Four vicodin and a glass of wine later, I felt no relief whatsoever last night. Being Miss Anti-Medication, I hit a point where I said, "Nothing is worth putting so much shit into my body." I had to round the troops (aka whatever I had left in me) and call for backup. I spent the rest of the evening alone in my recliner begging for mercy. I suffer silently most of the time. It's just my life now, so why put everyone else around me through it too?
I have a possible light at the end of the tunnel 2+ weeks from now, but I can't worry about that when "the now" exhausts my daily supply of fight each day... when "the now" kind of sucks.
See how much of a roller coaster this disease is? Compare this post to the last one...