"You get an A for effort." That’s really what I wanted Dr. Hatch to say to me when he was kneeling in front of me last week, looking truly bewildered and apologetic about my searing knee pain. I also wanted to hear,“Congratulations, nocorngirl! You’re still HERE! 16,000 pills, cocktails, ice packs, and tears into this unrelenting pain, and you have not thrown in the towel. You’re an amazing patient.” I don’t feel amazing. Far from it. I feel only slightly sane at this point. How much can one person take?
I knew 2013 bit the big one as soon as my husband twisted his ankle and sprained his back in the final hours of 2012, coming home from the pharmacy for me with (you guessed it!) more pills! It was indescribably horrible seeing him in pain. I realized, with a sickening feeling in my gut that I suspect is the reason I’ve eaten like, four meals since December, that that is how he feels looking at me, every day. My pain never stops. I don’t remember a pain free day in the last nine months, or the past nine years. The fact that there is no end point and I have to endure this for the rest of my life is just too much sometimes.
Thanks to my awesome physical therapy team, my husband’s sprain at T2 is now under control. He has a stand up desk in his office. He also bought a new chair with an ottoman, so I can stare at a different set of walls during the day and he has somewhere to sit if he gets tired of standing.
Sometimes the day’s biggest decision is which chair I want to sit to read, write and drink wine in. Wheelchair on the patio? Lounge chair in the living room? Propped up in bed? I like having those options. I can choose where to cuddle with my ice pack, where to get comfortable, even when comfort is unattainable.
I haven’t walked in three weeks. I’ve cried, though. I’ve laughed, I’ve read, I’ve written. I’ve seen countless bad movies and a few good ones. I’ve watched Hulu so much I have their ads memorized. I’ve listened to my husband’s conference calls and meetings, and I’ve heard him do dishes, take the trash out, and laugh at my jokes. I haven’t blogged about any of it. It never seems to add up to much of a life, this daily minutiae. Shari told me just because I never go anywhere doesn’t mean I don’t have a life. It frustrates me that the trash goes out more than me most weeks, but I know she’s right. I'm here. I should be writing and interacting with you all.