Tag Archives: foot pain

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…

ankle and foot flares so my mood sucks

Ankle and foot flares so my mood sucks

I woke up around 0430 because I had to pee. I struggled with whether or not to go back to sleep because I knew if I did, I would have a hard time waking up when my alarm went off at 7. I just laid in bed. I had taken some pain meds as my ankle was being a jerk but it wasn’t too bad. I finally gave up resting around 645 and got dressed to catch the 701 bus to the Square. I brought a light bag with me as I didn’t know if my messenger bag would be acceptable in the courthouse.

On the way to the courthouse, I had my bag on my foot. After a few stops, It didn’t like the bag and I was in a lot of pain. Great. The pain got worse as I got off at my stop and walked to the courthouse. I had a few anxiety attacks from the pain. I was literally shaking and having palpitations. I went to where I needed to go at the courthouse and paid my fee. The woman said it would take four weeks to process. Damn. I thought it was quicker than that. She said she will call me when it was time for me to come back.

I carefully went to the train station that was down the street, about half a block. I was hurting pretty bad and had no idea how I was going to get home. Luckily, I didn’t have to wait too long for the train and bus home. I was limping as I got home and my ankle gave out on me as I walked up the stairs. I wasn’t going to do anything the rest of the day.

It was hot and humid today so I was sweating by the time I got up to my room. I must have been on my bed for about a half hour when my ankle bone flared up. I feel so depressed. I don’t know if I should keep my PT appt tomorrow or not. Going down or up the stairs is pure torture. I feel so hopeless right now. I just want to go under my covers and stay there permanently. To make me feel “better”, my mother said that she is not going to call me G. She is going to keep calling me my birth name. So much for her being okay with my name change. I just want to give up. I feel so weighed down and in so much physical pain that it’s like I am being crushed on all sides. Just kill me now. Why prolong the inevitable?

Next week I see my PCP and I am going to beg him to put me on a long acting pain med because every 5-6 hours sucks and if I don’t take it around the clock, I wake up in pain or I hurt worse for missing a dose. I’m done being a nice guy. He doesn’t, I will end my life. I don’t see what other choice there is. I can’t “live” like this anymore. My meds aren’t being totally effective anymore. I know I will NEVER be 100% pain free, but it has been so damn long since I was at say a 3 on a scale of 1-10.

I called the bitch coordinator that I met with on Friday to tell her I wasn’t interested in her group anymore. Her loss.