Honestly, I’m kind of amazed that I’m actually sitting down to write this. I didn’t sleep well last night, and I feel absolutely wiped. And before I finally drifted off last night, I had about an hour or so of incredibly painful muscle spasms. It got to the point where there was nothing I could do but wait and hope that the pain would go away. It finally did, or at least, subsided enough for me to finally drift off to sleep. Sadly, that wasn’t the end of it, however. I kept waking up every couple of hours, with shooting pains through my leg, or my spine trying to collapse back upon itself. When I finally arose about a half an hour before my alarm was set to ring, I felt beaten and battered by my own body, and completely unprepared to face the day. But it is a school day today, and not only that, but I was also volunteered to take the son of a friend as well. It would be getting light soon, and I was running out of time to make myself presentable for people I’m not related to. It’s times like this that make me despise the necessity of pants. So, brushing aside the residual pain as best I could, I gimped over toward the bathroom and resigned myself to my fate.
Even now, hours after I first crabwalked my way out of bed, I am still feeling the tension all throughout my musculature, and my brain seems mired in pudding. You know, I haven’t eaten butterscotch pudding in years. I know that I have so many other things to think about right now, and eating pudding will do nothing for my pain, but I could really go for some right now. Even my son agrees.
Great. Now instead of just being distracted by House of Cards and agonizing pain, I have to fight through a growing desire to squirt a sports bottle full of butterscotch pudding directly into my mouth. If I can actually this column finished out today, I will be impressed. I’m not sure exactly what has happened since yesterday, I mean, aside from almost more pain than I can stand, But it’s not that. I mean, I’ve grown used to the pain, although its surges of intensity sometimes catch me off guard. I just feel like I’m not all here. Last night I was feeling a little dizzy and disoriented, just before the pain took hold. I’m wondering what’s going on, and why it’s happening all of a sudden. Perhaps it’s just a side effect of getting older, or perhaps… I should probably go to see a doctor, but I don’t have health insurance anymore, and after my last experience, I don’t know that I want to go through all of that nonsense yet again.
I realize that my doctor was just trying to cover his ass, or whatever, but it was ridiculous how little he was willing to listen to me, especially when it was my money that was figuratively getting thrown down the drain for every anti-depressant prescription that I was forced to literally throw down the drain when it didn’t work. I let him know that the only pysch med that has ever worked for me was lithium, but he was unwilling to try anything that predated this millennium. And even when my physical therapist recommended muscle relaxants, he still wanted to try to kill two birds with one stone. Instead, he wound up throwing sand at tigers.
I’m sorry for droning on about this. I know that you normally come here to read my caustic rants about injustice, or humorous musings about things I that I feel like mocking. I have even been known to say nice things about people and organizations which I care about. So I want to thank you for bearing with me as I do my very best to avoid thinking the pain I am experiencing, and symptoms which are probably nothing, but still cause me some level of concern. I never imagined that I would make it past my mid-twenties, and so I have been ill-prepared to face my mid-thirties and the inevitable failing of my body. The nice thing about having a blog is that I get to write whatever I feel about whingeing on about, and not having to feel terribly about it, as it is a service that I gladly provide for free. Maybe I should reach out Amalgamated Pudding for an endorsement deal. Except that I would wind up probably accepting a lifetime supply of pudding as payment, and my wife would be upset if I had to make a living selling boxes of pudding mix at discount prices at the flea market just to pay the bills.
It used to be about running from the pain so that I wouldn’t have to feel, but now I’d just like the pain to go away so that I can get on with my life. I’d like to be pain free so that I can start to exercise, and make an effort to get back in shape. I’ve been in a free fall towards obesity since 2002, and I think that it’s time that I try to do something about that. I’m not saying that I think that my last weight-loss regimen is something worth revisiting, but I need to start doing something, or Jerry Springer will have to cut me out of my apartment before too long. But the first thing that I have to get accomplished is a reduction of my pain. If I am forced to face pain whenever I am on my feet, or sitting down, or laying in my bed, I don’t see what chance I have to make it out to a gymnasium to force myself to stretch my already aching muscles.
That’s the amazing disconnect of the human condition: I know what I need to do, and how to do it, and yet I cannot get it done. Maybe if I didn’t have to overthink absolutely everything. Or maybe if I wasn’t such a baby.