Nobody says, "Hey, wanna hear a dull story the longest way possible?"
So asks the New York Post.
I'm not a Post reader, though it is succinct.
I've been thinking about writing here all week.
I've been having a hard time but, fortunately, I think I've nailed it down.
Day after day of commuting and working and commuting and sleeping, on three capsules of Lyrica daily, seems to have worn me down. I'd slip away from my desk to have a cry. I'd hear a song while riding the train and cry. K would bring me a cup of tea and I'd cry.
I spoke to the pain management doctor about it - I know it's helping me, I said, but I feel like I am far away, alone, in a a long tunnel and I am sad, I told him. I said I'd keep trying but I realized, sobbing at the office last week, that I couldn't continue. I'm back to two capsules a day and stopped crying on Thursday.
My hand, in wax and a plastic bag.
Back to PT!
Look! I am allowed to start the session with a hot paraffin treatment. I always wanted paraffin but was not able to withstand the heat. It's lovely. I want to drop my whole self in it. Apparently my hand looks better than expected and we move forward with some added OT to help me be able to write and, you know, maybe do buttons!
Hampered by my winter coats (if there is anything else impeding my movement I get a little crazy) I purchased an inexpensive backpack when it became impossible to keep my tote bag on my parka covered shoulder. It's working out.
Twice in recent days I have had the pleasure of sitting across from this woman who I have deemed The Most Beautiful Young Woman On The Entire Railroad.
Nope. No idea who she is.
Last night, the guy sitting next to me left his blackberry on the train. When I brought it home Youngest discovered it is the very same blackberry left by the very same guy he returned it to last year.
They are, ever so slowly it seems, chipping away at the bricks at the top of our office building. Chipping and drilling and hammering. The noise is deafening. Like being at the dentist all day long.
Remarkably loud. It's part of a building reno which involves every floor but ours. Our lease is up soon and we could stay/move/stay and renovate. If we do anything but stay I will probably be involved in the reno or move and am hoping we do either.
Middle mixes cocktails.
bb perfects her fried eggs.
I have had a cold since, roughly, December 10th. I've been to the walk-in clinic twice and done a week of antibiotics when the cough got so bad that I pulled muscles in my side. Presently, I've got a nasty cold sore and am seeing my family doctor (who I've not seen since well before the accident) on Monday.
I have so much to tell her.
Feast/famine report on K's work: NO WORK. Famine. Some bites, but no work. Endeavoring to remain upbeat in the face of...well...you can imagine.
Report on the other men I live with: all well and good. Some in hibernating mode (Youngest, who returns to school later this month) some in social mood (I've not seen Middle for DAYS, Oldest busy visiting friends).
My thoughts for the new year - I was hoping it would be better. I'm still hopeful but wonder now how I could think it being a new year would make any difference.
Actively searching for my old optimistic self.
I have to tell you that 73 questions post made me really like Mrs. Beckham. She's quite funny and clever, I never would have guessed that.
Have to say the paraffin thing sounds comforting...
I particularly wept when dropping my brand new iPhone6 the other day, the display is a joy to look at (I am having a serious hard time playing WWF) AND have no Apple Care. YAY STUPID ME!
My parents are both very sick (mom has been confined in bed for 8 days now).
So there, you are not alone.
We are not alone.
We all simply get trapped in our minds full of daily problems and think we will never make it out.
I am currently there.
But deep down we know we must go on.
So let's get up, hold hands and keep on going. Together can be easier.
You are not alone, and we care.
Mum was put on it to help with her nerve pain after getting shingles in her face. Oh the despair and tears. They dramatically reduced her dose and she improved. But the pain was noticeable once more.
What to do, what to do.