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.