March Is Coming In Like An Idiot

Last night was a bad night.

A very BAD night.

Terrifying dreams involving me being crushed by a skinny dying woman at a beauty salon; chasing criminals towards an open , non-functioning elevator;  and the overwhelming smell of spoiled food.  Three separate dreams. not just one.

New stabbing pains in my right cheek.  Well, new at night anyway.  Blindness approaching I bet.

And seriously escalating leg anguish.  Usually night is a bit of relief because the pressure is literally off.  Not last night.  Sheez!  If I was my neighbor I would have called the cops to find out who was torturing the old crazy lady next door.  I did my best to stifle screams of agony;  but I feel I should post a written apology on my hallway door.

This pain is almost indescribable.  Like contractions of labor they recur over and over.  They make me think of how I've heard crush injuries are experienced.  Twisting razor wire and pummeling cinder blocks and machete-like bone slivers also come to mind.

Sleep is impossible and a comfortable position does not exist.

My kingdom for a chainsaw and the guts to use it.

And snow is expected yet again.  So far this month sucks.

Snow Bound Yet Again

This is what it looked like last week.

Stay tuned.

It will be here again on Wednesday night.

In all likelihood I will have to cancel yet another doctor's appointment.

Might not seem insurmountable; but with one barely functioning leg, one leg almost useless and agonizing, two aluminum canes, no boots, ice covered parking lot, and little physical confidence even this level of snow is able to cripple me.

Just kill me now.

What Do You See?

Well?

What do you see?

If you are a regular person you probably see several DVD cases scattered on the floor.

Wrong!

Wrong-Oh!

What it really pictures is a torture device.

My own personal trail of tears and one of many.

Allow me to explain:

Yes, I dropped them and thank heaven nothing else broke.

But then I had to figure out how to pick them all up.

Minutes spent imagining the proper positioning of naked feet and shivering legs.

More minutes sliding canes and chair in optimum support area.

Locating phone in case of fall to ensure 911 reachability.

Raising the bulk.

Suppressing scream of pain.

Hobble, hobble, hobble, grab.

Repeat.

Repeat.

Live to fight another day,

Lost

Even if Kubler- Ross had it right, this knowledge about the grief cycle is not helping me.

Physical and emotional losses have hit me like a ton of bricks in the last several years.  I never denied them. I realized clearly what was going on; no denial was involved.  Intractable pain is not something I could ignore or pretend that it wasn't happening.  Banishment by former dear ones was also made undeniable.   SMASHO!

And maybe that was the problem right from the start.  Maybe if I had pondered the impossibility of these events I would have been better prepared for what came next.  In any case I've been stuck at anger for far too long. Every morning the pain wakes me up, then literally brings me to what is left of my knees during the day, and crushes me into bed at night.  Does this make me furious?  You betcha! The emotional wounds by people I thought I knew better cause  me to fantasize serious science fiction type torture for them all.  Anger is what I've got these days.  But, whoa, if I ever got hold of real weapons on an especially bad day; and there's no telling how much or how many I would annihilate.

Still, perhaps I've been lagging at this stage longer than is helpful.

I don't think bargaining is for me.  No one I know is willing to change much less listen to what I'd need to say.  Not much talking goes on in my sibling circle.  Drama, yes.  Photo opportunities, yes.  Serious conversation, NEVER.  Not with me anyway.  Who knows what they are scared of.  And there is no bargaining regarding medical care.  I am poor, old, and over weight.  Limitations prohibit any optional discussion.  YIKES.  Working around all this stuff is exhausting.

So what's left is acceptance.  And, 'dear holy god and matrimony' I am trying.  But, I am seriously considering the chain saw aisle at the big box.

Lost Week

More and more than usual physical blockades.  Migration to new body parts.  These lessons are beyond me.

Could not write.  Could barely read.

Peeked in on the Cory Booker show.  Give the man a bounty of credit.  Until the $30 SNAP week experience is mandatory for anyone in government I fear this effort will be quickly forgotten.

Peeked in on the Sandusky show.  Poor thing.  He's chafing at the limitations of prison life.  Can anyone see that sentence and not burst into tears of laughter?  He wants to be placed in regular population.  Do It!  DO IT!

One of those will undoubtedly have a better week coming.  One deserves to rot in hell.  One is gritting teeth and begging for hope.

Time Is Different

10:47am.  Drowned down one painkiller tablet.
10:57am.  No change.
11:07am.  No change.
11:27am.  No change.  Screaming becomes ineffective.
11:37am.  Pain actually seems to be increasing.  Cannot move leg or toes on right side.
11:47am.  Pain continues.
12:07pm.  Pain continues.  Pillows are soaked in snot, tears, and sweat.
12:27pm.  Pain continues.  Attempt to apply some CBT.  Consider painting.
12:37pm.  Pain continues.  Now aware of additional back spasms.
12:47pm.  Painting is looking better than expected.  Cannot determine if pain has subsided to any extent.
1:07pm,   Painting completed. 
1:27pm.   Wash face and hands.  Stand.  Legs hurt equally.
2:07pm.   More than three hours of agony and I am able to hobble to my desk.