Tag: pain

Sometimes death likes to dance…

So as it happens, I suppose for a while there I got a respite. But Ol’ Grim…he’s never far away…

The problem with loving so many people is the pain felt in losing them. You might hear about my numerous encounters with Ol’ Grim (click here for the renditions, aka Dancing with Death). Unfortunately, as with everyone, if you live long enough and meet enough people, you inevitably get to meet him. Ol’ Grim came to visit tonight, but he didn’t stop for conversation, he just left me a note.

“The docs are giving me 2 years.”

Trust me, even if you hate my guts and wouldn’t waste the dung off your heel on my grave and you’re reading this solely so that you can justify hating reading this even more, you don’t want to ever hear this…

For me it wasn’t the first time. As I mentioned above, the awesome part in meeting so many people is in enjoying having them around and knowing that you’re looking forward to spending more quality time with them at some point in the future.

“The docs are giving me 2 years.”

Don’t get me wrong, my candor might be light, but if you know me, this is like pressing the BAD button for me. I don’t expect it’s much different for anyone else, but since this is my little patch of the internet, I am going to ignore anyone is actually reading this and just vent a bit. I’ve seen more friends pass than most soldiers have to see in battle. I’ve held the hand of the dying so many times it’s become a damn blur. Up until now, I’ve learned that this part of the experience is the same, but it’s also taught me that how people deal with it progressively is an entirely different matter.

I’ve learned how to keep from freaking out. I’ve learned that acceptance is everything and it takes fucking time, but it NEVER (and believe it or not I feel very lucky for this) diminishes the pain.

Today, I am going to spend the day with an old friend, and ignore the hell out of everyone else. Because for once I get to have fun and make the best of it before that day comes instead of regretting the days I missed.



I blame it on Mondays.

It’s been a long and dreary weekend.

I had a huge arthritis attack starting late Friday night that hasn’t left yet. Now this is actually something I can function through (as in, I can get up and make it about ten feet before the pain gets to be too much) enough that I can work from home (like today). But regular things like grocery shopping, cleaning the apartment, visiting with friends…these are all things that are not really within the scope of my mobility.

This weekend was pretty set.

Was going to take my nephew out for his 17th birthday.
Was going to hang out with a bunch of really cool friends at a cook-out.
Was going to go completely overboard and show up at a friends house Sunday morning and cook them some of the awesome breakfast tacos.
There were some other cool things I would have liked to do too.

I didnt get to do any of them…when you’re not mobile on anywhere near a regular basis…you start feeling drained before you’ve even put up a fight.

So…it’s Monday. I worked from home today…thats what I am doing on Mondays. Worked out because the swelling in my right foot hasnt gone down yet.

I still cant do much more than hobble for short distances, and after I do…well lets just say that I takes me a minute to recompose myself.

Yep…hurts that much.

So…I am confident that the attack will be going away soon. I’ve been taking Prednisone for 3 days, Colchicine for two (yes, thats a day over normal dosage), and there isnt much left to do but wait it out.

Unfortunately I have to go to work tomorrow. If it’s possible for me to get there…I need to go.

I had to do laundry still. I procrastinated hoping that it would be easier tonight than Saturday or Sunday. No such luck eh?

I got the wash done. Each trip down to the washer and dryer is actually just enough for me to recover so I can make the trip down.

About halfway into the dryer cycle I get a sinking feeling someone is messing with my laundry and going back down to the laundry area (I can see it from my front door it’s not far).

I hobble out and as soon as I am facing the laundry area, I look up to see some asshole rummaging around in my clothes. Of course he bolts.

..and here I am completely unable to walk right.

He didn’t get any of my clothes but I haven’t felt more helpless in my life.

..yep…this is me pissed…