I'm exhausted--I have to be conscious of every move I make, because moving an inch too far to one side or the other causes searing, blinding pain.
I'm scared I'll never get better. I'm afraid of living the rest of my life trapped inside my own body, a body that refuses to work properly.
I'm afraid of epidurals and surgery. I don't like pain pills or muscle relaxers, and I don't like the fact that taking them at night causes me to sleep through my alarm.
I'm afraid I'm going to lose my job because of this. Not because I can't function at work, but because I can't get up when the alarm goes off, causing me to be late over and over and over.
I'm scared that I might have whatever is wrong with my mom. Fibromyalgia? Hashimoto's disease? Gluten intolerance? Whatever it is (with my mom, it's all of these things), I don't want it.
And, most of all, I'm worried that I'm sending BoyWonder to get this lovely testicle surgery when I am in no shape to get pregnant, and we don't know how long it will take me to heal, if ever. I mean, I'm in pain now, what the hell happens if I end up carrying a ten-pound baby (that's not at all uncommon in my family, either)? Automatic bedrest? In any case, I can't see it being pleasant.
BoyWonder doesn't understand. He understands I'm in pain, and he's been relatively understanding, but I don't think he can grasp the notion that I'm always in pain. Everything hurts, except for standing up and walking around. Sitting on the couch hurts, driving hurts, trying to get in and out of bed hurts. And not just a little bit. I don't know how to explain it to people when they ask.
The best example I can think of is this:
Imagine that your body is made of strings. Your spine is a string, each arm has its own set of strings, each leg has its own set of strings, and all these strings are attached to each other at hip level. All the strings on the right side of my body are constantly pulled tight. And then, if I move too quickly, or try to get out of my car, or any other trigger movements happen, it's a lot like someone grabbed a handful of strings on my right side and tried to rip them out of my body.
Does that make sense? It's the best way I can explain it.
And I wouldn't be so frustrated if I could do the most basic things. After several weeks of having to almost die of pain trying to get my socks on in the morning, I finally realized I could pull my foot up behind me and get them on that way with minimal pain. Yesterday, I was at work and my shoe came untied. After ten minutes of trying to reach my foot, I gave up, took off my shoe, tied it, and jammed my foot back in. It's ridiculous. I shouldn't have to live like this, and honestly I don't think I could survive a lifetime of it. I would rather just die.
I feel better now.
Not physically. I mean, after venting, I feel marginally more sane.
Today I have physical therapy. And I'm going to try to get back into my doctor's office for another visit. I'm almost out of pain meds. As much as I dislike taking them, and all the lovely side effects that come with them (constipation and an eternally dry mouth, anyone?), without them I can't function nearly as well.
Physical therapy is helping a little bit, though. I'm not progressing as fast as I'd like, and I think most of that comes from the fact that I'm supposed to go three times a week, but because of my work and school schedule, two is the most I've been able to squeeze in each week. I'm going to try to have them set me up an appointment in my one-hour window of free time on Wednesdays, but so far it's been full every time.
Sorry I'm whiny. I have three days off in a row, so maybe I'll be back with something happier soon.
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