Life's Little Lessons

I’m here, I’m here, I’m here!

I know I’ve been away for quite awhile this time. I’ve missed you! Have you missed me?
I’ve got the same excuses as last time: sick & busy…but now I can add – having some miraculously good days, so I’m trying to get more accomplished here at this pig sty I call home.

TODAY'S MENU
FACING MY FEAR
ENTER DR. BITCH
DANCE, DANCE, DANCE
GIMME DRUGS, GIMME DRUGS, GIMME DRUGS & GIMME A BREAK!
DR. SHIT-FOR-BRAINS
I DIGRESS
SPINNING MY WHEELS

FACING MY FEAR
My daughter recently left for a trip to Australia. She went with an ambassador group which is highly respected and has 49 years of experience. I’d mention the name of the group – but I don’t want some kid Googling the name of the group and land their poor little minor ass here on this page. Hey, despite my truck driver mouth – I’m a mom, too! (On another aside, my friend BB – you know the one that still ain’t a stripper -- she sent me a list of her friends – her emergency contact numbers - in case I can’t get a hold of her – and she sent her very conservative friends a note telling them about me -in case I called - and she told them how nice I was – despite having the vocabulary of a drunken sailor. Hahahaha! I’m sure they’re eager to talk to my ass!)

Anyway – it was really difficult packing my mature, yet ELEVEN year old daughter to go on this trip with 39 other kids and 4 adult chaperones…but I knew it would be an opportunity of a lifetime, and I felt very secure sending her with this particular group of leaders – which are all teachers.

I KNOW, though, that this is a definite point of growth for me. The longest she’s been away from home has been at Girl Scout camp for 10 days, which is only about 45 minutes from our house. As a matter of fact, last year it started flooding around our area while she was away – so my husband & I drove out & picked her up a couple of days early as we couldn’t predict if it would keep raining – and we didn’t want to see her on the news clinging to a damned tree waiting to be evacuated by helicopter. Needless to say, she was a bit pissed off at us. But then I told some melodramatic stories about flooding; quoted the fact that most accidental deaths are caused by flooding (Is that even true?); and then she saw areas that were flooded out, so she straightened up a bit – stopped pouting after about an hour or so.

But now – I can’t evacuate my child. I can’t do anything. I have absolutely NO CONTROL. In case some of you are just joining this little blog – my handful of dedicated readers have already figured out that I’m one of the biggest damned control freaks on the planet!

When we first got the letter saying she was invited to go on the trip – I first tossed it with the junk mail thinking, there’s no way in hell I’m gonna let my kid go to Australia without me! And then another mom called and said they got the invitation too and were all excited about it. And then I thought:

“PISS! PISS! PISS! Now I have to evaluate WHY I wouldn’t be willing to send my daughter on this trip of a lifetime! And yes, money was a bit of a factor – but not the REAL one. The REAL demon I was wrestling with was my FEAR of what might happen to her without me there with her. Australia is full of dangerous animals & snakes & insects, right? She’d have to fly OVER THE OCEAN for crying out loud! I can’t let her go there…not without me!

And then I had to stop and think…it was all about me NOT being with her. And then I had to realize there are hours and hours in the day when I’m not with her – when she’s at school – or when she’s with a friend. I can’t control everything. DAMN IT!

So the real question was: Am I willing to allow my FEAR to keep my daughter from experiencing this life-changing adventure? Am I going to pass FEAR on to my child? Is that what I really want to impart?

Don’t you hate it when you see something about yourself – some TRUTH – that you have to face? It’s scary as SHIT!!!!!

But I looked into the program, and just sat & cried while reading their website. I was coming to the realization that it would be so selfish of me to keep her from it just because I’m not willing to stand up and face my fear. Meanwhile, my mother was at work looking at the website, crying, and then wrote me a letter about some of the fears she had to face as a mother.

It’s not that the emotion of fear is wrong…it’s just what you do with it that is critical. And don’t get me wrong – there’s a difference between fear & caution – cause when my daughter gets back from this trip – she’s STILL not walking to the park by herself – and that’s only 1/8 mile down the road! (CHILDREN DO NOT BELONG AT PARKS BY THEMSELVES. That’s where pedophiles hang out…at least that’s where they hang out on all the cop shows!)

So hubby & I talked about it – and decided to take one step at a time. Over the course of 9 months we had multiple informational/protocol type meetings with the leaders & fellow group members; we did a fundraiser; and the group did a community service project; and also had a fun day at a local water park.

As far as being comfortable with my daughter’s maturity level to go; comfortable with the group & the leaders; and comfortable with the program – I was. There was, still, of course that FEAR OF THE UNKNOWN. FEAR OF THE ‘WHAT IFS…’ And despite me logically knowing that is a fear that is always potentially with us – I still had it deep down.

At one point I remembered when my daughter was about 3 or 4 and learning to swim, she was very afraid to swim from my arms to her father’s arms just a few feet away. Every day of the summer we’d get in the pool and try to encourage her, reassuring her she’d be OK. Finally one day, she stood up & looked me in the eyes and said: “I’m gonna face my fear.” And then she did it. What an inspiration she’s been to me through these few years of her young life.

Out of the mouths of babes…..



ENTER DR. BITCH
When we were at the water park one week prior to their departure, I had the opportunity to talk with other moms, and they had similar reservations about sending their children to Austraila, too – which made me realize I’m not alone in facing this fear. There was something rather comforting about that. I also learned that many mothers asked their pediatricians for a round of antibiotics – just in case the kids were somewhere where a doctor wasn’t conveniently found. I thought that was a good idea so I called my daughter’s pediatrician the next morning & left my request on the answering machine. What a bad move.

I got a call back from my pediatrician’s partner, Dr. Bitch, as my pediatrician was out of the country. First of all, this bitch asked me where my daughter was going and how old she was. And then she said: “OH, well, I WOULDN’T do it. That’s just too far for someone her age. That’s on the other side of the world!”
(Really? Did she think that I don’t own a map, a globe, or even have internet access?? Stupid, condescending bitch!)

Before I could explain to her about the program, she started saying shit about how she backpacked through Europe (goody for her!) and has traveled the world, and that one day she wants her children to be able to do that too, but now they’re just too young. That would just be ‘irresponsible’. (Yes, that’s the word: IRRESPONSIBLE.)

Dr. Bitch went on to say that it would also be irresponsible for her to give us antibiotics because it could mask something more serious…that she could ‘get meningitis and die’.

Yeah, that’s what she told me as I stood there, trying to cook dinner, with my mouth open – my tongue sending out multiple SOS messages to my brain: “Help! What can I say to this f’ing bitch? C’mon, can I say it? Can I say what we’re thinking?”

Brain says: “NO. We’re going to remain calm. If we piss her off she’s just enough of a lunatic bitch she might call the child welfare people & they’d probably show up the day of the trip while we’re trying to leave for the airport.”

Tongue says: “Shit! I never get to say what I want. It’s not fair!”

My chest interrupts: “Excuse me, but I think we might be having a heart attack.”

My nose says: “And I think the house is on fire.”

Brain says: “No you idiots. It’s just an anxiety attack and you’re burning the okra. Turn down the burner & sit down.”

At some point I tried to explain about the program, and I reassured her that, as a mother, I, too had initially had my own reservations but had months to get comfortable with it….

And then Dr. Bitch cut me off (no doubt she was too busy backpacking through Europe to take that course in phone etiquette…) She said, “I’m not just saying this as a mother – but as a doctor, too.”

I wanted to scream. She was now using her medical degree as a weapon – using it to call into question my abilities as a mother. That F’ING BITCH. I, of course, did not say this.

I very calmly said, “I understand your opinion. Thank you for returning my call. Bye.”

AND THEN I SCREAMED. I don’t think I’ve been that LIVID in a long damn time! I wanted to throw my fist through a wall, only my hands are delicate and my nails are finally growing – so I didn’t.

I wanted to sit down immediately and type up a ‘you’re the dumbest bitch in the world’ letter…but I was busy burning supper. So I called a few maternal people so they could help calm me down, and reassure me that that particular doctor was possibly the dumbest bitch in the world…and it helped a bit…but it’s hard to get rid of that much anger with just a few pep talks.

I think the reason I was so angry was because she woke up that FEAR that I thought I had worked so hard to squash. But apparently it had been there the whole time – still hiding underneath the surface – waiting to spring out and choke me to death.

It was when I talked to my friend BB – and she told me that this woman had really served a purpose – and that was to get me to the point where I was certain again – that sending my daughter overseas is an OK thing to do. That it was right for her – right for us. And BB was correct. I had to reevaluate all my reasons and reexamine all of my fears. I had to be certain again. I had to be peaceful about it again.

DANCE, DANCE, DANCE
The next day after returning home from some last minute shopping, I decided I wanted to hear some comforting music, so I inserted my Lee Ann Womack CD into the CD player. My daughter & I were putting some things away when the music started. And then the second song came on – that one was my favorite. It’s called: “I Hope You Dance.”

My daughter was standing next to me in the kitchen, and I just grabbed her and held her close and said, “Let’s dance for a minute.” So we held each other and I sang along with Lee Ann :

I HOPE YOU DANCE
I hope you never lose your sense of wonder
You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger
May you never take one single breath for granted
God forbid love ever leave you empty-handed
I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean
Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens
Promise me that you’ll give faith a fighting chance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance…I hope you dance
I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Livin’ might mean takin’ chances but they’re worth takin’
Loving’ might be a mistake but it’s worth makin’
Don’t let some *-bent heart leave you bitter
When you come close to sellin’ out reconsider
Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance…I hope you dance

I mostly didn’t sing. I mostly cried. And she cried too. I knew there was a part of her that was frightened about going – even though the rest of her was excited to go. I think it’s natural to have mixed emotions about something like that. But I asked her again: “Are you sure you want to go?” And she said “yes”.

I asked her that question every day before her departure – even the day of her departure – giving her the chance to say ‘I can’t’ or “I don’t want to go”. I was willing to throw all that money out the window if I thought there was something inside HER telling her not to go. But despite her little fear…she went.

So for the next couple of weeks, she & I (and I’m sure her daddy, too) – we are all facing some fear. We’re growing a bit. And for those of us stuck at home…it mostly sucks. But I’m trying to use what energy I have to distract myself by cleaning up the house – instead of lying in bed counting minutes. And surprisingly, I have a great sense of peace….a peace that really passes MY understanding. Of course this peace didn’t really settle in with me until AFTER they landed safely.

Since she’s been gone – she’s emailed once – also sent us a picture of her holding a koala bear via email; and then she called us at 2:30 in the morning the other day. I was so happy just to hear her sweet voice – I have no damn idea what we talked about. I think I asked her if she had done her laundry. What the hell? She calls long distance and I think about pulling out the motherly nag voice? But I don’t want her walking around Australian in dirty undies, you know!


GIMME DRUGS, GIMME DRUGS, GIMME DRUGS & GIMME A BREAK!

(I think I have another section entitled ‘GIMME DRUGS….’ somewhere else on my blog, but give me a break already, I’m getting tired!)

Just prior to Memorial Day weekend, I went to see my LLMD again. Naturally I went with my typed agenda, but I left my jovial, frontal lobe “disinhibited” attitude at home. I felt like shit.

I talked to Dr. N about my pain level & the various manifestations of pain. I brought up the subject of getting a different – stronger pain medication, as the Norco I’ve been on for YEARS is starting to not be very effective. I mean – I can take 2 Norco (which is equivalent to 3 regular Vicodin – minus some of the acetaminophen) and it feels like I’ve taken 1 aspirin.

I told him that I experiment with my meds, wondering if that was a good confession. Sometimes I take the 2 Norco with a couple of Xanax…or sometimes with a couple of muscle relaxers, sometime with a Xanax AND a muscle relaxer. And I’m thinking experimenting isn’t exactly GOOD…but I’m usually not in the mood to go to the ER for adequate pain control every afternoon, you know?

And for the record – there’s a difference between addiction and tolerance. An addiction causes you to crave the drug – to spend your waking hours seeking after it, and if you don’t get it – you just might go crazy. I used to smoke cigarettes – so I can at least speak about the nature of addiction in that regard.

As for drug tolerance – your body just becomes used to a certain drug so much so that you need more of the drug to achieve the same chemical effects that occurred during its initial use.

Now – to make matters confusing for the easily confused, many drug addicts have a high drug tolerance, which makes their drug seeking behavior that much more pronounced because they needs LOTS of drugs to satisfy their craving.

However, many people with drug tolerance do NOT have a drug addiction problem. You do understand the difference now, right?

Anyway – so I was telling Dr. N that taking 2 Norco now is kinda like taking a couple of tic tacs for my pain, although it does nothing for my breath. He then said that he would be glad to refer me downstairs to a doctor that is the “King of Pain Control”. However, I had previously explained to Dr. N, and now needed to remind him, that I would NOT under ANY circumstances go back to Dr. Shit-for-Brains (the so-called ‘King of Pain Control’) – as I had seen him a few years ago and he did NOT listen to me, and he had me OVER-medicated.

So Dr. N’s solution was to tell me that we’d have to talk about it later because he was getting ready to go on a 3 week vacation.

A 3 WEEK VACATION? I WAS TELLING HIM THAT I’M MISERABLE, AND HE’S GOING ON VACATION?

He did end our brief visit with the instructions to take a 3 day antibiotic vacation and then to start back on my Zithromax & Mepron slowly. He instructed me to start back with only 1 drop of the Mepron a day. He thinks most of my pain is caused by herxing. Hmmm. Interesting theory – only I was miserable even BEFORE I was on antibiotics, so I’m not putting a whole lot of stock into that one.

He told me to stay on a low dose of the Mepron while he’s away – as he didn’t want me ending up in the ER because of herxing…although I was thinking I might end up in the ER because of the damned pain! Regardless, I thought that was good advice, because I already know they’re a bunch of idiots in the ER.


DR. SHIT-FOR-BRAINS
For your reading entertainment, I thought I’d pull out something embarrassing from my past, which will further explain my refusal to ever darken the doorstep of Dr. Shit-for-Brains.

I first saw Dr. Shit-for-Brains about 3 years ago (prior to my diagnosis of Lyme) – when I went to see him on referral from my urologist. My interstitial cystitis was trying to kill me slowly – or at least that’s what I thought. I was in daily unending excruciating pain.

In addition to the feeling that I had burning shards of acidic glass wedged into my bladder – my bladder and all of the surrounding pelvic muscles were in a CONSTANT spasm. (All that spasming is called ‘Pelvic Floor Dysfunction’) I was in hell. Pure & simple.

There were moments where I felt I was certainly about to give birth to my own bladder.
So I eagerly sought relief from this pain management ‘specialist’ – not realizing that his name is Dr. Shit-for-Brains for a good reason. As a pain management physician, he had an entire novella of pain management rules, and being in extreme pain, I didn’t want to break any damned one of them. I was a desperate woman.

So Dr. Shit-for-Brains took me off the Hydrocodone and put me on Norco. In addition he put me on an anti-convulsant drug, Gabitral, although to my knowledge I had never had a convulsion. He also put me on a new anti-depressant, and switched me to a couple of different muscle relaxers and some other shit to make me sleep – although the sleep medication was really overkill, because at the time, the pain med, the anti-convulsant, the new anti-depressant, and the muscle relaxers pretty much made me catatonic. Either that….or extremely MANIC. I was hyper as hell in the morning, and then by afternoon I crashed. I knew something was wrong – but my brain was so fried with all the new drugs I couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on.

In Dr. Shit-for-Brain’s novella of ‘RULES’ – it said for his patients to contact his office IMMEDIATELY if we had any new symptoms or side-effects. Well, I, being the good patient, took that request seriously.

I tried to call, but they put me on hold – or the nurse was away – and the receptionist wanted to know if I wanted to leave a message. Hell no – I had too much to say! In addition to the drugs screwing with my brain – my life started falling apart. (You know how sometimes you feel like you’re going through a ‘negative spiral’ and just one damn thing after another keeps happening? That’s what started happening to me. And in my f’ed up brain – I thought Dr. Shit-for-Brains needed to be aware of it, too.)

It may help you to know that two of the biggest stressor for me during that time was that my uncle had a motorcycle wreck and was transported via helicopter to the trauma unit of the hospital – where he struggled to survive for 6 weeks in intensive care. At the time of the letter below, I did not know that he would eventually die. Although there was a part of me that was afraid that would be his fate.

Also, my dog had run away the day before my uncle’s wreck, and my dog had been attacked by another animal. So when we found him we had to spend money out the ass to save him, not knowing if he would survive…and then we took him home a little ‘early’ so we could save on the vet bills.

There were other things happening – friends calling me with all of their crises – one of them even talking about committing suicide. It was a crazy time. Even my damned therapist was having a crisis of her own, and she couldn’t see me! Thanks to my pain, and the drugs, I think I was just crazy as shit myself! And the fact that people were calling me for my drug-induced advice?? Sure I gave it – and it was ironically pretty good. But still….it was insane!

The thing about the letter below is – Dr. Shit-for-Brains SHOULD have taken the time to realize that all the NEW symptoms I was describing was pointing to something else (the undiagnosed Lyme) and all the crazy-ass shit I was writing was because he had me over-medicated with something – I don’t know what – but I don’t want to ever feel that damned crazy again!

Yet – Dr. Shit-for-Brains at the next appointment after my faxed letter told me he didn’t have time for all my crap. And he did NOT listen to any of my NEW symptoms, such as the CHEST pain I was having at that very moment – and then I ended up in the ER that afternoon because I was convinced I was having a heart attack! I do not like Dr. Shit-for-Brains because any idiot could see from the letter below that I was SCREWED UP…AND whatever he had me on was only screwing with my brain – and not taking care of the pain – the old and the new. I therefore have no use for Dr. Shit-for-Brains. Besides, after a couple of more visits with him…I told him I was weening myself off some of the meds he prescribed, & I fired his ass!

So, at the cost of embarrassing myself, I am allowing you to read the following fax that I sent to Dr. Shit-for-Brain’s office. Just remember – this was me when I was totally out of my mind…unlike now, when I’m totally in my mind. Enjoy.


I DIGRESS
Dear. Dr. Shit-for-Brains (not his real name) / Dr. Shit-for-Brains’ nurse / Anyone who cares:

Thought I’d check in with you, as I thought that’s what I read in your mini-novel of pain management rules. Keep in mind that I now say/write just about everything with my tongue implanted firmly in my cheek, as that is my new chronic pain, narcotic-induced personality. I know I must not be the only one of your patients that copes with their pain in this manner, so I am giving you the benefit of the doubt that you can handle it, and won’t call my husband just yet to have me committed into a mental institution, although as I’ve probably mentioned before – I could use the rest & I do like to do crafts.

My appointment in your office was Tuesday, April 16th. If you recall, that was also ‘tornado day’ – which was probably stressor #36 or #37 on my growing list of ‘Thing that Stress Me Out”. I digress.

After doing the duck & cover drill with my hysterical daughter at our vet’s office – while we were visiting our dog that is now being quaranteened for rabies (and I did tell you that because we cleaned up his dog body fluids, now we - mainly ME - are at risk for rabies too – because apparently you don’t have to be bitten by the animal to get rabies?) All that was just FYI. Anyway – I took my medicine that evening, after my husband braved the storm to go fetch it from the pharmacy. As I recall, I believe it made me a little sick to my stomach and maybe a little light-headed – so I made a mental note to take it with food the next evening.

Wednesday – Woke up with a headache & had quite a time actually ‘waking up’. I managed fairly well during the day and did not find it necessary to take all the meds available to me as evidenced by the fact that some pills remain in the “Wednesday Morn & Wednesday Noon” containers. (Yes, I’ve now had to start using those little pill ‘reminders’ that senior citizens have to use, because as you know – being in pain and taking medicine that ‘will cause drowsiness’ – I have occasionally in the past taken a med & then 30 minutes later asked myself: “Did I take that medicine?” I’m sure you’ve heard that one before.)

We then went out to eat that night, because that’s what we do on Wednesday nights because we are a highly ‘structured’ family. (Know that I am laughing on the inside about that one – but you might not get it – it’s an inside joke. I digress again.) While we were out to eat – it seemed every muscle I had from under my rib cage to my anus was in a very tight spasm – naturally I did NOT have my medicine with me at the time, because apparently I’m now turning into an idiot. It felt like my rib cage was trying to fuse with all of my pelvic bones and/or the ribs were doing their best to find their way out of my butt-hole. I could not stay seated. I tried to get up and walk it off as I made my way to the bathroom. I did not have to urinate as much as I needed to just weep because of the damned pain. As I sat in that bathroom – which needed a little attention from the janitorial staff – I suddenly realized why some of the women on the internet say there have been times they have thought about suicide because of the pain. Let me say right here & now that NO – I am NOT suicidal! It never crossed my mind – but I had a better understanding & compassion for those that have. I have a daughter & I would NEVER dream of etching a scar that deep into her! In addition, I have a husband whom I love too…& besides, we probably wouldn’t have the money to bury my ass. In addition, I have spent far too much time, money, and energy on YEARS of therapy & just quite frankly – I’m too damn smart to do it.

When we came home from our evening meal, I took my handful of bedtime medicine because I was just about ready for bed. (This was after I made a call to a ‘friend’ who is also a massage therapist BEGGING her to call me back so that she could give me a massage – because my pain level as at least an 8.5! I am still waiting for her to call me back – and she’d better be out on vacation right now, because if she’s not – then I won’t be referring to her as a friend in quotes or otherwise – I’ll be calling her a BITCH in big bold letters and right in her face.)

The meds started to kick in just enough that I decided I might check my email because sometimes writing to people helps me to get my mind off of my pain – because I am so ‘wordy’ and have so much to explain and I want everyone to know just how damned miserable I am. I digress. I started getting nauseous, so I tried to eat the rest of my dinner that I couldn’t eat at the restaurant because I was waiting for one of my ribs to start poking out of my ass.

Needless to say, while I was on the internet & eating…I fell asleep. I woke up as my head started to drop and I realized that I was falling asleep while TYPING and WITH FOOD IN MY MOUTH – and I don’t think that was a good thing. And this happened several times. It took my husband several tries to get me up & off the Lazy-Boy I was lounging in. Then it took him about 30 minutes to convince me to get off the toilet & come to bed, because I kept falling asleep on the toilet too – before I could convince my muscles it was OK to pee. While I was there, I kept waking up as my head started propelling towards the floor. And some rational part in me finally woke up enough to get me off the pot because I thought the last damned thing I needed was to go sit in the ER for 7 hours because I gave myself a damned concussion by falling off the toilet head-first!

On Thursday, I again woke up with a headache. I managed to get through most of the day without taking all of the meds at my disposal because I am having so many damned mini-dramas that I really need to stay as rational as possible. That was NOT a good decision. By that evening, all my muscles were doing their spasm thing & my ribs were again searching for my butt-hole. Cried. Cussed about my so called massage therapist ‘friend’. Took my meds, at something that I couldn’t choke on (ice cream), got on the internet; fell asleep.

Friday was a little better for the most part because I was determined that I would stay on top of my pain and take everything at my disposal. Because I didn’t want to stay in bed all day (because I must continue to put out all my “fires” and apparently the “fires” of every other person that calls me with a crisis) -- I wouldn’t take all of my morning pills at once – but I’d take a couple – then wait a couple of hours and then take the others. (I’ve started handing out lots of great drug-induced advice, if I do say so myself, that I think that could make me a bone fine ‘arm-chair’ psychologist – so I’m thinking about changing my name to Dr. Wiseass! I realize it might take you a second to get that one.)

I don’t know if you’ve noticed – but many of my medications say things like ‘take 3 times a day as needed for pain, spasm, etc…” WELL – these all make me sleepy & probably a little bit neurotic, or maybe that’s the pain making me neurotic. I digress. But it’s difficult to determine what I should be taking when, so that I don’t fall asleep – yet I am taking what I need, at the time I need it, so that I won’t go stick my head in the toilet & flush several times to see if I can, indeed, drown myself.

Friday evening – I starting getting this very annoying nerve pain shooting down my legs – which being a massage therapist didn’t exactly surprise me – as I have experienced it before AND I’m pretty sure that the fact that my muscles STAY in a CONSTANT spasm that they are clamping down & compressing on one or more of my leg nerves. Hey – sometimes it ain’t rocket science.

Saturday went pretty much like Friday as far as meds are concerned, and yes, I believe I woke up with a headache that day too. During the morning & early afternoon I entertained myself by writing a bunch of crap that I am being kind enough not to tell you about. By the late afternoon – my ribs started doing their thing again and the pain down my leg was intensifying. I cussed about my ‘friend’ who has yet to call me and then called a massage therapy ‘acquaintance’ – at this point being willing to pay out the ass for a decent damned massage to get me out of pain. She too has yet to call back. Is it ME??? Are people AFRAID of me? Do they think they can catch it or something? Or am I just annoying as hell?

My husband did his best to rub on me, and he must have been feeling extremely compassionate at that time, because this massage of his did indeed last longer than his normal 30 seconds. He actually spent about 20 minutes ‘working’ on me – although I had to tell him what to do & where to do it. (And that’s about as close to having sex that we’ve come to in the last couple of months, and I know it did nothing to gratify him. I digress again.) I then got in the hot tub (the hot tub I should just be living in – but I can’t get on the internet while I’m in there & being on so many drugs, I should probably have some COMPETENT adult supervision – and that’s hard to find at my house right now.)

So, the pseudo-massage & the hot tub & the meds helped a little. Later that night, more of the same pain. Took my bedtime meds, ate something soft, fell asleep on the internet. (I’m glad I’m not paying for my internet by the hourly usage anymore.) WOKE up at 2:45 am with a very intense pain shooting down my right leg and causing this burning sensation at the heel of my foot. Naturally, I’m thinking, “Oh Great! NOW I have NEUROPATHY!” (When you have a lot of ‘people’ and they just stay sick – you pick up on things & get to the point where sometimes you can just diagnose yourself!) So I got up and walked around on it – not knowing if that was a good idea or not. Still don’t know. Also thought I was experiencing a burning sensation at the tip of my tongue – couldn’t diagnose that one – so I assume I was just really drugged from my evening meds and just a little bit crazy with the pain at that point. I really wanted to take another Norco & an Ultram to ease the pain but thought: “Well, I know I took my 3 Norco & 3 Ultram during Saturday and wondered about how I define my 24 hour day – and that if I did take another Norco & Ultram – would I be breaking one of your damn ‘rules’ about taking more than what was prescribed OR would I be taking the first of Sunday’s rationing of pain meds because it WAS after midnight – BUT what if I did, and then Sunday daytime was even worse than the middle of the night - & then I’d only have 2 Norco & Ultram to dole out to myself???

I was just so confused because I didn’t want to break any of your damn rules because quite frankly, my dear doc – I need you to help me. And even though I could have taken one, two, or even three of the meds that I hadn’t taken earlier in the week – which you wouldn’t have ever known about – unless I opened my big mouth and confessed – I chose not to, because I figured with my current luck, that would be the pill that would make me go into a seizure or a coma or something and then you would discontinue being my doctor and then not only would I be a little farther up that ‘shit creek without a paddle’ – but I’d be farther up it with a hole in my boat!

I was just so pissed because between the pain and the fact that my body wanted so badly to go back to sleep, I decided to put all my heating elements around my mid-section, placed an ice pack on my foot and went to bed to think about it. I determined that if that didn’t work & if I couldn’t solve this pill dilemma, I was just going to call whomever was ‘on call’ and wake his/her butt up to answer the question. That ‘on-call’ person was very lucky because apparently that ice pack helped a little & I went back to sleep.

Sunday – woke up in pain, and yes, with a headache too. Still in pain as I type this. I now have ‘areas’ in my body that are experiencing different levels of pain and am feeling rather frustrated about it all. In addition to the ribs, the pelvic muscles, my burning bladder, the nerve pain in my legs & the burning in my feet – I also feel like I might be ready to pass another kidney stone (don’t ask me how I know this – I’m just listening to my body.) I am also on my period which is adding additional miscellaneous cramping and I’m sure my hormones are really helping this situation out right now. (Please note my sarcasm.) AND in addition to all of that, I now feel like the muscles/and or nerves running under my shoulder blade are becoming irritated because of the fact that my ribs seem determined to make their way down to my ass and drill me out a NEW butt-hole! And now, I’ve developed a cough. I won’t even comment about what that adds – because I know you must certainly ‘get it’ because you are the smart medical people.

I’m going to try to make it through the day taking my meds like I have been – resisting the urge to call you and say, “Hey! This crap ain’t working!” So if no one from your office hears from me today – I will be sending this fax tomorrow.

I apologize that this is such a long fax – but believe me – I am being brief compared to the true potential I possess with regards to writing long-ass letters. Count yourself lucky that I didn’t call to speak to a nurse and then keep her tied up on the phone for 20 minutes while another one of your cranky pain patients sits practically naked in the exam room waiting to be poked & prodded. So see – it’s much better this way – don’t you think?

And I can pretty much imagine that after you read this letter – you’ll pull out that PDR and start looking for some magic pill to make me become more brief and concise. And if you find one – and if it’ll take me out of pain, but won’t completely kill me, my pharmacy A number is: 123-456-7890. And for your convenience, if you’re brave enough to call me, my number is 123-456-7789. If I’m distracting myself on the internet or taking a field trip to visit my uncle who is on life support at the hospital because of his tendency to run his motorcycle through trees, then you can call me on my cell phone and you can just pray that it’s off so all you have to do is leave me a voice mail. That number is: 123-456-7778.

And don’t worry, I’m still not driving myself anywhere – which, by the way, is making my life that much more complicated – because I know it’s one of your ‘rules’! Besides, I’m not that damn stupid anyway. I’m also not operating any heavy dangerous machinery either. And since my washing machine is a heavy machine, and potentially dangerous – because yes, I am in enough pain and on enough medication to fantasize about sticking my head into it during the spin cycle – I’m just staying away from it altogether.
So I conclude this letter by letting you know I’m sitting here in the last clean pair of panties I own. And if you know very much about my bladder disease – you KNOW that’s not a good thing.

Thanks.

Have a good day. I’m settling for “tolerable”

DR

P.S. – If I have offended you with my foul language, please accept this, my most sincere apology. “I’m sorry.” I’m glad you can not hear the sound of my voice right now, because I’m hurting quite a bit & its hard to muster up a whole lot of sincerity right now, and I AM sincerely sorry about that. And just so that it is clear, the fact that I can write/say things that may sound funny – it does NOT indicate in any way that I am not in substantial pain,. You know that phrase, “If I didn’t laugh, I’d cry” and that famous Reader’s Digest column, “Laughter is the Best Medicine” – that’s where I’m at. In all sincerity, though, I am doing the best I can to cope with all the pain and stress I have in my life right now & I constantly try to ‘zoom out’ just enough so that I can find something – anything – humorous about this predicament I find myself in – just so I won’t cry. My body can’t afford for me to become depressed at this point. So I’m fighting it with every ounce of wit, wisdom, and sarcasm I can find., This is my attempt at being ‘positive’ – no matter how demented it may seem to others. And if my language does offend you, just tell me, and the next time I sit down to write you another long-ass letter, I will just put *** every time I feel the need for an expletive – and then you can fill in the blanks with any Walt Disney rated word you want. And if you ARE offended by my foul language, then might I suggest that you seek therapy too, so you won’t be so easily offended. See – I just can’t help myself. I must give advice. And if you have any advice for me, I’ll either be on the phone or sitting right by one.

PPS – Monday (4/22) – still in all that same pain mentioned earlier. Just heard a loud sound & thought my elderly Godmother had fallen or something. She didn’t. She didn’t even hear it – but maybe she’s not wearing her hearing aids…..or maybe I’m just starting to HALLUCINATE now? Please advise!


SPINNING MY WHEELS
I think I wanted to 'unveil' my new website in June. It's June now.

So, NO. Ain't gonna happen.

You've waited this long...you can wait some more. I realize this must be very upsetting for you - but for me - it's a total pain in the ass. I have this drive to get the little bastard up & running & I'm just spinning my wheels like a partially labotomized hamster on a wheel. Spin a little. Get off and look around: "Are we there yet? No?" Spin a little more.

Before I close, I'd like to add you to my 'Blog Update' mailing list. I'll send an email out on the RARE occasions when I actually do update the blog, so you won't have to keep checking in to see if I've gotten off my ass and written anything.

Send me your email addy, and I'll add you to the list: dr-wiseass@sbcglobal.net. (Also, I'd love to know what area you live in...if it's not 'top secret'.)

I must return to my spinning now.

Hugs & Kisses,
DR Wiseass