Que sera, sera.
One day the pain was still "manageable" and then next I could barely walk. That's how quickly I go down hill with this back pain. It doesn't come on gradually anymore, it's more like a punch in the gut, "here I am, remember me!" sort of screaming, if the nerves in my back could literally scream. I have an appointment to see my doctor next Thursday. I hope I can last that long. And that doesn't mean that he can help, aside from maybe prescribing more pain killers. When they can actually schedule the next steroid shot I don't know, but I'm hoping it can be done quickly. I'm willing to try it once more, to see if it actually works this time, but I've pretty much resigned myself to the fact that I will need surgery before the year is out. I am frightened by that, but I cannot live like this. I feel so infirm and worthless; useless.
And it is constantly one thing after another, as if the back pain weren't enough to deal with at one time. Now the washtubs in the basement refuse to drain. Before that it was the kitchen faucet that was broken and leaking, before that it was the previous kitchen faucet that was broken and leaking, something something, always something.
I'm learning to roll with the punches. Things happen, and sitting around bitching and crying about them doesn't solve the problems. I firmly subscribe to the idea of Suck It Up And DEAL. A lot of people have trouble with this concept. I find that after having a good crying jag, it's just the best route to go. Which doesn't mean that my depression is any better - it's probably close to the worst it's ever been - but it's probably the explanation as to why I'm still here.
Though sometimes I honestly believe I'll have to kill myself to make the pain stop.
And it is constantly one thing after another, as if the back pain weren't enough to deal with at one time. Now the washtubs in the basement refuse to drain. Before that it was the kitchen faucet that was broken and leaking, before that it was the previous kitchen faucet that was broken and leaking, something something, always something.
I'm learning to roll with the punches. Things happen, and sitting around bitching and crying about them doesn't solve the problems. I firmly subscribe to the idea of Suck It Up And DEAL. A lot of people have trouble with this concept. I find that after having a good crying jag, it's just the best route to go. Which doesn't mean that my depression is any better - it's probably close to the worst it's ever been - but it's probably the explanation as to why I'm still here.
Though sometimes I honestly believe I'll have to kill myself to make the pain stop.