Foot is driving me nutso!!

I’ve been trying to sleep since 2100. My mother wasn’t up in her room yet. I called to see if she was ok as with the AC on, I can’t hear things. She was okay. Her sugars had stabilized.

I got a blog that I read and wished I didn’t. It was about the lesbian protests or something like that in London during the Pride parade. What gets me is that anytime transgender is mentioned, it is almost always having to do with transwomen. I know I cannot be the only transman in the world. I know one came out in the Navy. I know there is another fellow in Oregon. We talk occasionally. We can’t be the only ones out there. So why isn’t it out there?? I just feel alone and invisible.

Then I started talking about suicide and someone tried guilt tripping me. I call it what it is and they say it is on me. Really? I will be fucking dead. How will I know what will happen to my family?? Am I supposed to be a ghost or something? Pissed me off.

My foot felt like it was in a pressure cooker. Then it felt like it was being crushed. Now my big toe is hurting big time. I call uncle, except I don’t think it works. I found my very last breakthrough med. Tomorrow I got to call and have them change the order and make sure the count is so I can take more than 1 a day. Otherwise the pharmacy won’t fill it and I’ll chop my fucking ankle off.

I will need a shower tomorrow. I hate showering. I need to shave my head to keep it bald. Also need to do a touch up of shaving because I missed some spots. My foot isn’t going to be happy. Then I got PT. Oh joy. Yes the curative physical therapy to increase mobility. This is interesting as I haven’t moved my damned ankle in 17 fucking years. It is a fucking joke. Oh and the damn pain clinic refuses to use CRPS. I have left ankle/foot pain. Can I bring a bat to my next appt and clobber them over the head?? Not to kill them, just to knock some sense in them or make them read my damn medical record that says why I need prescription pain medication. Fucking assholes.

I am done trying to say to them what I need. I have a better chance of winning the lottery. My foot is screaming. It is too late for gaba. I need to be up early enough to call the assholes and hope it doesn’t take a week to change the order. I can’t believe I was stupid and didn’t read it before I left. Ugh. Live and learn I guess.

Maybe 300 mg of gaba to calm some of it down. My PT is going to be unhappy with me. I’ve only done home exercises about 3 times. I couldn’t do it the 1st two days after our last session because my thigh hurt too much. Thursday I did it. Friday I was off to asshole’s office. Saturday I slept all day. Today I was in a fuck it mood.ok so what is that just one time? Oops I can’t count. We’ll just say 3 times. I probably am not going to see her anymore anyway. I really don’t want to. I think it is pointless to see her for my ankle/foot. I saw her before and I was in too much pain. And without breakthrough meds, forget it. I am tired of working through the pain.

I have no life. Just doc appts. I can’t remember a day I went to the Square just for fun, to have my espresso and write. Hasn’t happened in so long. Maybe February when I was trying to write the story in my head. It is gone now. Why bother writing it when I am going to die soon?

Part of me is trying to hang around. But with every painful flare, it gets less and less. Just do it runs through my head. Someday soon. I hope. Just do it…

any thoughts?

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