I’m having a bad day. Hell, I’m having a bad week..month.. year. I alternate between being a super stoic and what feels like a big baby. On bad days, I can be short-tempered, ignore you, or be downright mean. I feel sorry for myself way more often than I want to. Tonight is injection night and I don’t want to stick that needle full of antifreeze into my thigh because today I don’t have much evidence that it is working. What it does do is make me crazy, exhausted, and sick. I guess it’s working, because I am making it through each day. I’m still working two jobs. I am keeping my head above water. My feet don’t feel broken when I step onto them each morning, but this disease is so capricious in its expression that I feel like I wake up every morning on some demented game show– What the Fuck Hurts Today? This month, the background music has been the pain in my neck that makes me walk funny and behave like a manikin. A few of the contestants have been the nails in the tops of my feet, my aching and useless left thumb, and my left knee. Even my jaws hurt. The day I saw the doctor last, must have been a good day, because I gave myself 2’s and 3’s. I am not sure I have had that good of day since. I find myself wanting to tell this doctor how great it’s going. I don’t want to tell her that I feel like I am failing on Methotrexate. I did ask, “how long until I feel good again, like, I don’t hurt?” She said, “now come on, you’re fifty, it’s not ever going to be perfect.” I don’t want perfect, but I do want my life back.
I don’t want my blog to be a big whine fest [especially since I am not supposed to even have wine with Mtx]. I don’t want to have to ask for an antidepressant. She already gave me Tramadol for pain, so clearly she is pointing me in that direction. I have always been the no-nonsense girl who finds depression so self-indulgent. If you have time to be depressed, I’ve always thought, you don’t have enough to keep you busy. But now, I find my boyfriend telling me I need to watch out for depression, like it might be sneaking up behind me.
Icy Hot patches, disposable tens units, peas ice bag, ice bags to fill [large and small], and so much relief in a couple of bags. So, now, I sit in the corner typing as my neck crackles, ripples, and pops in mini spasms from this tens unit, appreciating someone who took the time to take care of me today. It makes me seriously tear up in gratitude. ❤