Toughing it out

I'm having a tough time. I'll admit it.

More mentally/emotionally than anything else... though physically my life has been a challenge lately. Heck, when isn't it these days? That's part of what makes the mental stuff such a challenge. Being sick all of the time and pretty much helpless to do anything to stop it wears out out. It takes a toll on you.

My pain is still nearly unmanageable. I cringe at the thought of calling my rheumatologist's office up between visits to say, "Hey, my pain killers aren't working to control my pain," especially with my brief affair with abusing prescription pain killers. I don't want to look like a drug seeker or an abuser. I just want to live a semi-normal life. I don't want to hurt any more... or, at least, I want to hurt less for longer intervals. Isn't it sad that this is the driving beat beneath the music of my life?

I got blasted yesterday for not being a Christian any longer. I even sorta almost lost my job. That's a story for another time... perhaps. We'll see. There are a lot of emotions attached to that one, emotions I'm not sure I want to touch. But I can say with great certainty that I was not aware there was so much prejudice and stigma against those who choose not to be Christians. It's like we're automatically bad people who destroy everything we touch. Sad. Just sad. My heart breaks for those who subscribe to this philosophy, for they are imprisoned by fear.

My youngest sister is admitted into the psych ward of the hospital for suicidal ideations. She disclosed to a guidance counselor at school that she was essentially having an emotional breakdown and that she wanted to kill herself in a very serious way, so she wound up being committed. I'm really proud of her. That's bravery, right there. It takes a ton of courage to talk to someone about that, especially someone you don't know. I never did, and many times it was only a sense of duty to my family or a curious hope that things might turn around the very day after I killed myself that kept me from at least attempting suicide.

I have friends that think I should report my rheumatologist to the AMA after reading my letter. I don't know how I feel about that. The last thing I want is to get her in trouble, but if she's genuinely doing something wrong then she must be held accountable. I just don't know enough about what is supposed to happen in the course of rheumatologic treatment to be able to pinpoint discrepancies. In any event, I will wait until after my next appointment and approaching her with the letter before making any move in a "reporting" direction, or in a "seeking a new doctor" direction. I want to at least give her the chance to make improvements in her administration of care.

Well, on the bright side, I do have a bunch of fun craft projects to keep me busy. Most of them have to do with the upcoming DV vigil. I've designed the flyers (which the printing place screwed up BOTH times, and I'm quite upset because they are ugly now and I don't want to be associated with those nasty things!) and the programs, and now I'm creating the big poster board displays for survivor quotes and sayings to be written on. I also have another batch of purple awareness ribbons to create, but that shouldn't take me but the course of one evening. I can whip those out in the duration of a single movie.

So here I am. Toughing it out. One day at a time.

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