Grumpy Gruff

 

 Well, sort of grumpy.

I am looking forward to updating a few things here. I am not looking forward to the work involved.

Blogs are not popular anymore. "Tweet it!" said one of my followers. I do tweet it, often babbling about stupid shit, but sometimes I capture a thought or mood or moment as it unfolds. It's a liberty we don't have when blogging. Instead, we have to sit down and expand upon our experience, I suppose, "After the fact."

I am not grumpy about any of that. Everything I wrote above was just a mild rant. My grumpiness oozes from the dark corners of pain.

We are counting down the days until my back surgery. August 16 is D-Day. The damage to the bone and nerve has worsened, and I could have had it done this week, but my insurance won't cover UPMC.  I am fairly peeved about that. 

The pain is indescribable at this point. It is there, PAIN. Stabbing, shooting, screaming, clawing. I wish I could say I am being melodramatic; a Sarah Bernhardt, as my mother used to say whenever I complained about something painful.

Trips to the ER were weekly. Now they aren't worth the effort. The opioid war wages on, and chronic pain patients are treated like addicts.

I can not actually stand on my left leg without experiencing excruciating pain. I used to withstand it while shopping the entire store for groceries. Then it became more limiting as time passed. Now I have reached the point where I slump on the kitchen counter to wash dishes because I can not withstand more than a few seconds of, well, standing.

My quality of life is... I am not dead, right? We can celebrate that.