Thursday evening I took my friend to the doctor's appointment she'd gotten set up at the free clinic. We basically sat around in a (very) cold room for 2.5 hours, then were shuttled off to the crisis intervention clinic to sit for several more hours. She wasn't allowed to leave, because she's a suicide risk, so I left and brought some food back at one point. They "committed" her without consent, again, because of the suicide risk. So when I got home after 1 a.m. (the initial appointment was at 6:30 p.m., mind you), C laughed long and loud at the fact that I accidentally committed my friend. Oops. But she is getting her psych eval tomorrow, which will get her the help that she needs, so I have no qualms.

The cold room, the stress, and the late hour all hit me like a brick the next morning, Friday, which also happened to be the morning that I ran out of pain meds. Of course. I had an appointment with my GP who graciously gave me a stop-gap prescription for pain meds, but upon trying to fill them I found that the insurance regulations wouldn't let me. I had gone through the other meds too quickly, and they are a controlled substance. I went to the rheum's office in tears and pain, and they moved my appointment up 2 weeks which is great. They also suggested a way to possibly get my scripts filled, which I tried to no avail. Fortunately, I kept the pieces of paper and was able to get them filled elsewhere later that night.

First, though, I came home and collapsed tearfully into bed where C was lying. He held me as I sobbed my despair, pain, and frustration, suggesting that I take a hot bath to ease some of the pain. I took his advice, then took a several hour nap. A couple of hours later, we were able to get one of my scripts filled, and that's what's been keeping me sane. I'm still trying to break the pain cycle that lapse caused, but it's tough. I couldn't walk around the grocery store that night so I used the electric cart, which was an interesting, kinda fun experience. They're not terribly fast, but they corner pretty well.

Yesterday C bought me rum and coke, in the hopes that I wouldn't have to use as many pain pills if I were liquored up. It was a good idea... until I did some research and discovered that acetaminophen and alcohol is a big no-no. I'll have to wait until I've got a different sort of pain med to take advantage of boozing it up, or risk liver failure. Not a pleasant prospect. I hope I didn't hurt it too much with what I drank yesterday. It was only one glass, though, so I think I'll be ok.

Other than trying to beat back the pain (and it's a doozy), I've officially joined the guys in nerding out. M is DMing a campaign that I've rolled up a character for, and we had our first session last night, so I'm a DnD player now I guess. I never thought I'd "stoop so low", though I'm finding that it's actually a fun pastime.

I'm just tired. Tired of hurting so badly... and for no good reason. Almost every morning when the pain starts hammering at me really bad, I just kind of sit back and marvel in puzzled confusion at the phenomenon of seemingly causeless pain. I don't understand it. Why do I hurt all of the time? It's not fair, really. But, hey... it's my life right now. What else can I do but bear it and try to make the best of things?

I suppose I'm not in the most cheerful of places right now. I feel like I'm being ground down to a stump by this damn pain. C was really good to me on the day without meds, more than usual. (If that's possible.) When I was crying in his arms, I wailed to him to help me, please, help me. I know it bugs him that he can't do anything to help me, so he just kind of puts it out of his mind and doesn't worry about it, but that day he was more solicitous and affectionate than usual. It was very sweet, and I reveled in it. He also put a quick end to my death wishes, which is easy enough because I really do want to live. I just yearn for the utter peacefulness and desensitization that the grave promises. I'd settle for a coma, really. Anything to end this damned pain. When I sniffled to C that I was depressed, he agreed with me completely.

Don't misunderstand me. I'm not suicidal. I don't want to die. I just don't want to hurt anymore. But I love life, my life, far too much to follow the path of that thought. My hubby needs me. After all, I'm the only woman he's ever loved. :)

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