It has been a while since I’ve truly felt alive, I mean I know I am alive. The constant pain is a good reminder….but living and existing are two different things. I exist. I exist in a world of my own, I’ve got more than four walls, none of them padded…yet. (Yeah that is next, at this rate…probably advisable.)
What I’m getting at is that for the last two years (or possibly longer) my life has been part blur, part drug induced stupor or head in the sand…and yeah head elsewhere…no need for me to draw you a picture. The beginning of 2009 was the start of a nightmare that I can’t seem to wake from. I was happy working, I was even working two jobs, taking care of my family as I raced from one job to the next and still managing to throw dinner together before heading to the second job. I was thriving, enjoying the busy-ness of life. Then IT started, that nagging pain, it only escalated…I ignored it until I could no longer ignore it. Soon I found myself in physical therapy, countless doctor appointments and fear. As a single mother with two boys still at home I was scared of what the future would hold for me. I tried to just tackle things as they came, the writing was on the wall…I knew I would soon be laid off, so if I was going to have surgery there was no time to sit and think on it. I scheduled it the same day it was suggested.
Little did I know that it would take two surgeries to “fix” me…problem is it is now 2011 and I am anything but fixed.
The last few days have been agonizing, painfully so. I know it shows on me. My youngest keeps asking me to smile, he knows I’m hurting, he keeps asking me to smile through the pain, and maybe that will help. If only it was that easy. Boy # 2 is a bit more uncomfortable seeing me in pain, he will help out and make sure I have water, medications, tissue, trash can close to my bed in case I need to hurl. They have been great throughout this whole ordeal…but I feel guilt. I feel like I am robbing them of a normal childhood…there is no extra money to take them out for a bite to eat, trip to the mall, shopping…they are growing, Boy # 3 just shot up a couple of inches in the last month.
I hate that I sound so down…despite all of the pain, the changes we have had to make and try to adjust to, life is good. Yes, it could be better, but it could also be a lot worse. I’m not complaining…even if that is what it sounds like…no I am bitching and moaning…there is a difference.
And I am entitled to bitch and moan all I want, anyone has a problem with it can kiss my old saggy crippled ass…but only if I’m standing…and they can get to it…I’m not making it easy on anyone….and sheesh…I need to change my Pandora radio station….this music is a little too melancholy for me.
Oh and I’m shamelessly taking donations for funds for booze….yes booze. I have drugs, I even have saltine crackers…but booze…well I am running low…very low. And a bitch and moan fest cannot properly be undertaken without booze….so hit the DONATE button and surprise me.
Now I’m off to go kick the cat….wait…I don’t have a cat….