Kari, I don't know if our stars are crossed or what, 'cause lately I find myself going "huh"? to a lot of your well intentioned comments.
When you say "pain is addictive" to someone in pain, it sounds insulting, and I honestly mean no offense, I just don't understand your point.
If pain is addictive, then let me run right out and buy another heating pad, which was part of my instructions to find alternative coping methods to pain, and now my behind is so burnt it looks like bubble wrap.
Or it did. The blisters popped. (Have you ever had to bathe in your underwear just to take them OFF?)
The fact that I could sleep through such a thing, makes me wonder too. I wasn't drunk and I wasn't on drugs. (No Refills)So...methinks there must be some nerve damage already, then, eh? I know there is in my left leg, 'cause when they take that little hammer, there ain't no kick left on that side.
I think of addictions as pleasurable things, so maybe that is where my confusion lies.
I dunno. I just know this ain't no "twinge"--and as if I am being mocked by the gods again, today, there was an ad for a job as columnist in the paper. An easy one too--just community activity reporting. I wouldn't even have to be entertaining.
The last time the local paper looked for a columnist I wrote a column. It was funny. I read it at barbecues. Friends asked for copies. And I never applied for the job--I was afraid I might accidentally be hired.
I swore I would never do such a stupid thing again.
Now here it is--but tsk...
to report on community activities, they kinda like you to GO to them. And oh, there's more to this story too, which is rather amusing, because this job calls for reporting in the city of Gretna, now famous world wide, for blocking access to Katrina victims seeking refuge. And um, wince, in my better days, I attended civic meetings there and I'm afraid I burnt a few bridges along the way.
If I thought that I could hold up my end of the bargain I would be all over this opportunity. But what do you do when you don't know how many good hours you have in you a day? If any.
I've spent a lot of time, and money, looking for a doctor, even before Katrina.
The doctor I am mourning is not the one with the big mouth by the way.
I lost my main doctor. The one who took twenty vials of my blood, because he was so perplexed by me it brought out the investigator in him. And now he's gone.
Our next appointment, which would have been today, we were going to discuss auto immune diseases.
I've been exposed to a lot of toxins in my time, and some of them didn't even get me high.
So forgive my pity party.
I promise next time they offer me the golden ticket to pain management, I'll go take the damned pills.
People seem to like me better stoned anyway, and as for living life "right" and second chances?
I was just kidding myself all along. I'm sorry I brought you guys along for the ride too. I'll try to whine more quietly in the future.
and oh...bless those of you who phoned--and I know I am not alone--but I wish I were.
I truly do.
I know there are other people who are ill and hurting and tired and broke and disgusted and equally perplexed with what is going on inside of them--and if I could, I would take it all from all of you, and go live in a cave, like a leper.
I'm pretty much doing that now anyway.