Voi vittu!
So, I slipped down the stairs yesterday and landed on my ass.
I put ice on it all day, took painkillers, and woke up this morning sore, but manageable.
Then I took a shower.
And when I got out, my back hurt so badly that I thought I was going to pass out.
But still, I got dressed and ready to leave for rehearsal, thinking that it was just because I was due for another painkiller. Ironically enough, I was standing in CVS, waiting for my refill on said-painkillers, when the pain in my back got worse...and worse...and worse.
So, I called in sick to rehearsal, went home, and realized that this wasn't normal, and that it was serious.
I called Jon, hysterically crying, and begged him to come home, which he did without a second thought.
By then, the Vicoprofen hadn't done jack-shit for the pain, and I knew that I couldn't fuck around with this...
...which is why when Jon got home, he took me to the hospital.
They gave me a shot of Dilaudid, to help control the pain, and once it did, they kept me for observation for a bit, and then released me, with an Rx for Percocet in-hand.
I've got an appointment with my doctor tomorrow, first thing in the morning, and am so scared that he might move the surgery up. I can't deal with this at all, and if he does, I'll fall apart, I just know I will.
*sobs*
The pain is so scary, it's unbelievable, and to say that I was hysterical crying earlier, while home alone, would be an understatement. I somehow managed to pack up some emergency stuff in a bag just in case I had to be admitted, and then hobbled downstairs to the couch, so that if it got worse like it was in May, I wouldn't need to be carried down the stairs from my bedroom on a sheet (and no, it's not a joke). I can honestly say that the only thing that kept me from having a full-on panic attack while I waited for Jon to get home was talking to Lori on the phone the whole time. Sweetheart, you (and my Willa-bear) literally held my sanity together, and I can't even begin to thank you enough for that. Rakastan sinua niin paljon kulta. ♥
I'm mortified, frustrated, depressed, hopeless, and every other adjective you could come up with. I've cried until I didn't think I could cry any more, and I just feel like there is no end in sight.
And so here I lay, in bed, stoned out of my mind on medication, with an ice pack, and a bottle of Percocet on my night table.
I'm just so scared...
...but if I think about it, I'll just start crying again, and I'm not sure that this time, I'll be able to stop.
Someone, anyone, please just tell me that somehow, I'm going to make it through this. Because right now, it doesn't feel like I will.
I put ice on it all day, took painkillers, and woke up this morning sore, but manageable.
Then I took a shower.
And when I got out, my back hurt so badly that I thought I was going to pass out.
But still, I got dressed and ready to leave for rehearsal, thinking that it was just because I was due for another painkiller. Ironically enough, I was standing in CVS, waiting for my refill on said-painkillers, when the pain in my back got worse...and worse...and worse.
So, I called in sick to rehearsal, went home, and realized that this wasn't normal, and that it was serious.
I called Jon, hysterically crying, and begged him to come home, which he did without a second thought.
By then, the Vicoprofen hadn't done jack-shit for the pain, and I knew that I couldn't fuck around with this...
...which is why when Jon got home, he took me to the hospital.
They gave me a shot of Dilaudid, to help control the pain, and once it did, they kept me for observation for a bit, and then released me, with an Rx for Percocet in-hand.
I've got an appointment with my doctor tomorrow, first thing in the morning, and am so scared that he might move the surgery up. I can't deal with this at all, and if he does, I'll fall apart, I just know I will.
*sobs*
The pain is so scary, it's unbelievable, and to say that I was hysterical crying earlier, while home alone, would be an understatement. I somehow managed to pack up some emergency stuff in a bag just in case I had to be admitted, and then hobbled downstairs to the couch, so that if it got worse like it was in May, I wouldn't need to be carried down the stairs from my bedroom on a sheet (and no, it's not a joke). I can honestly say that the only thing that kept me from having a full-on panic attack while I waited for Jon to get home was talking to Lori on the phone the whole time. Sweetheart, you (and my Willa-bear) literally held my sanity together, and I can't even begin to thank you enough for that. Rakastan sinua niin paljon kulta. ♥
I'm mortified, frustrated, depressed, hopeless, and every other adjective you could come up with. I've cried until I didn't think I could cry any more, and I just feel like there is no end in sight.
And so here I lay, in bed, stoned out of my mind on medication, with an ice pack, and a bottle of Percocet on my night table.
I'm just so scared...
...but if I think about it, I'll just start crying again, and I'm not sure that this time, I'll be able to stop.
Someone, anyone, please just tell me that somehow, I'm going to make it through this. Because right now, it doesn't feel like I will.