Easter Sunday 2018
I woke up to my fricken med alarm around 645 this morning. It scared me out of my sleep and all I wanted to do was throw my phone against the wall. I shut the thing off and dutifully took my meds. My back was so bad. It hurt more than my CRPS pain in my ankle/foot. I had to use the bathroom and it hurt to move. I decided to cancel therapy for tomorrow as I wasn’t sure how my back was going to be. I was sure that just walking to the office would not be a good idea. When I came back to my room, I texted my therapist. I then got my heating pad and adjusted it a few times to get the heat where it hurt, which was mostly around my hip. I had used a tennis ball to try and massage it but the pain was so intense. I know I need to do it a few more times to get the knots out. I am lucky it is just muscle pain or it could be a lot worse.
I fell back to sleep. My sister was having Easter dinner at 2. I think I woke up a little after 1. My pain was a little better but my ankle was throbbing. I heard my mother make her way downstairs so thought the food must be ready. I followed her after gobbling a few chocolate chip cookies for an appetizer. My brother in law’s family wasn’t there yet. The time my sister told her to be there and the time my brother in law said was off by an hour. I have no idea why he said 3 pm as we never have dinner that late. That caused a little argument. Just what I wanted to hear, fighting on Easter.
The in laws arrived about a half hour later, which was good because I wanted to eat. Everything was good and peaceful. I saw my nephew and his sister, who I haven’t seen since Christmas. They don’t come over much or call. I might get a text from them every so often. I still can’t believe my nephew is going to be 24 this year. Seems like only yesterday I was holding him in my arms and playing catch with him. This caused him to puke on me for at least his first two years. I never learned. I was just happy to play with him. He often was like Dino the dinosaur in Fred Flintstone. I would come home from work and he’d promptly attack me with hugs. Later it was just to grab my baseball hat so I could chase him.
I spent most of the afternoon and evening down my sister’s. My back was surprisingly cooperating and so was my foot/ankle, though it was still throbbing. It hurt to go from a seated position to a standing. My aunt came over around 6. She saw a stray cat and wanted to take it home as it was malnourished. It had been living for some time on my sister’s porch for at least a month. I guess she told my cousin and he talked her out of it. Now my brother in law will be calling some cat shelter for it. That really pissed me off as the cat would have had a good home with my aunt.
I was late in taking my meds because I was downstairs. I hope I am not up all night. I did have a cup of caffeinated tea. For some reason, having tea late can either not affect me or will. I am tired so hopefully I will sleep.
I read twitter before writing this blog. There was a tweet that someone wrote that got my attention. It was about chronic pain and people being forced off their pain meds because their doctors are no longer prescribing it for them anymore. One tweet read that they were planning their suicide. I felt that person’s pain because my thoughts are the same. I am also planning. I don’t know if I will go through with it, even though I have given myself a date and some time to actually plan it. Not saying that it will happen the way I do plan it but the thought is there. Now that the CDC is admitting it falsified its data for their proposed guidelines, hopefully that will make doctors treat patients the way they should be treated. I don’t have hope that I will ever be treated for my pain because I have a psychiatric illness. I think that is why my PCP and pain docs are staying away from me like a 10 foot pole. I can’t prove it but it makes sense. I think that is why my PCP is in constant contact with my psychiatrist, which is kind of leading me not to trust my psychiatrist as much. I know what I tell her is confidential and all but my paranoia gets the better of me. I don’t know if she tells him how suicidal I have become. I have no idea what she writes in her notes about me because he reads them, even though he is not supposed to. I am too scared to request my records from her. It would be easier if I had access to them when I was hospital employee, but now I need to fill out a release like every one else. Plus I am not so sure reading them will benefit me in anyway.