I hope that's how it goes. I don't know if my brain can handle one more curveball.
I feel like someone lifted ten thousand pounds off my shoulders.
Speaking of weight, and shoulders... My back is still fucked up. My doctor's office won't prescribe me any more tramadol until I have another office visit. I understand, and I wouldn't be upset except that I called and asked them that exact question on Monday, and the receptionist was supposed to check with the doctor and call me back. She never did. And now I don't have time to go to the doctor until Friday. And all I have to take are muscle relaxers, and the few (I'm talking maybe 5) lortabs I have left from having my wisdom teeth out. I'm not a happy camper. I wasn't very nice to the receptionist when I spoke with her today. I called on Monday because I had time to go on Monday, and I knew I wouldn't have a chance to go again until Friday.
The good news (well, I guess it's good...) is that I've gotten used to the muscle relaxers so I can take them during the day and not be a zombie. On the flip side of that, though, now if I take one when I go to bed, it wears off around midnight. If I take another one when I jar myself awake (all it takes is trying to roll over), I sleep through my alarm. So... That sucks. I'm just thankful to have some kind of relief.
I keep feeling discouraged. This is my favorite time of year. I have bulbs poking up through the ground, and today I actually have two yellow crocuses blooming in my front yard. (I'll post a picture next time I go outside.) I need to start my tomatoes and peppers. I'm afraid that if I start them I might not be healed enough to do any gardening. I'm afraid I'm going to miss doing my favorite thing all summer long. The thought of not being able to dig a hole or crouch to pull weeds or carry a bag of soil or turn my compost pile makes me incredibly upset. It makes me feel like I'm a prisoner in my own body. Like this disc is a terrorist. The pain, I know, is definitely a terrorist.
Meditating does help. I'm glad, but I wish I had more time to just sit and make myself still. Because if I tell BoyWonder, "Yeah, I'll help you clean the house as soon as I'm done meditating," he's not going to buy it.
He doesn't need to buy it, though. He's already grounded. Well, maybe not grounded... A better way to say it is that he complained about my cooking because I put one handful of spinach in the cheeseburger pie on Monday. So I told him he's more than welcome to make his own dinner every night, because ever since I started WeightWatchers, I've been making two meals--one for me and one for him. He said something along the lines of, "I guess you can do all the dishes then, if I have to cook." So, I'm doing dishes. I'm not making him dinner. And unless he can convince me otherwise, I probably won't cook for him again until we have children who eat real food. So... What was I saying? Oh, that basically, I'm on a cooking strike. Okay.
I should probably note here that this is also why he has to drive every time we go somewhere together. He complained about driving all the time, so for a while I drove us around... Until one day, he bitched about everything I did. And now I don't drive him around. And I don't plan to. Ever again.
Please note that I do love the boy, but at the same time, a girl can only take so much bitching before she's got to make it stop.
For now, I'm at peace with the way things are. Physical therapy twice or three times a week. I've changed up my supplement/vitamin routine, so now I'm taking bee pollen and pomegranate twice a day, EPO three times a day, my prenatal, and a b-complex. And, at the recommendation of one of my friends' midwives, a tea of raspberry, clover, and nettle. I don't think it's the magic combination that will get me pregnant, but I definitely feel better since I've started them.
So, for now, that's all I've got. I'm sure I'll be back again soon to whine and complain... And hopefully I'll remember to snap a picture of my crocus. :)
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