Mad as Hell

I feel more depressed right now than I have in ages. Things were going so well with the exercising and eating right. Of course, we started eating better months ago, and that won’t change. By the end of the week of exercise my nerves were in high-gear, and my pain was in places I never knew you could feel pain in. The other morning I woke up to a bucket of pain I was not prepared for. I should have been prepared, though.

A few years ago I decided to start exercising and ended up with enormous back pain, and calves that felt like they were being clawed through. I found out that on top of my scoliosis I have arthritis in my spine, two spots of stenosis, and four discs that are protruding and bulging.

The pain my legs is mostly due to the nerves being cut off and pinched from the discs, but the surgeon I was seeing before losing my insurance thought there was more to it than that. I have chronic muscle tension in my calves, and he was going to run some test to see why I felt like I had no circulation from the knees down.

Shortly after I lost my insurance I found out I have high blood pressure, and have been forced for months to just deal with it without medication. I was finally able to get through to someone regarding the insurance, and was told I should be able to get it back, but need to come up there with my ID. Well, my ID has two different last names on it, and to change it I needed my marriage license. I searched for weeks and could not find it.

A few months ago, when I got out of a shower I hit the floor hysterical and had to be taken to the hospital. They determined after multiple tests I must have pulled a muscle or pinched a nerve. Well that makes sense seems how all my pain is nerve and muscle pain, I guess. The being stabbed repeatedly in my back feeling has not gone away. It feels like someone is jabbing a knife over and again into my left lung. Some days are worse than others like with all the other pain.

Right after that my ankles began giving me a lot of trouble. The most frustrating part about it all is that I could work through the legs and back. I could climb ladders and paint an entire room in a night just a few months ago. I can’t do that now. I can barely grip a cup in my hand without feeling I am going to drop it, and my ankles won’t allow the climbing even momentarily.

The other morning I woke up to my arms just giving me hell. My left one is definitely worse. In fact, all the pain I have is worse on the left side. My biceps feel bruised, as if someone repeatedly punched me in them. The pain travels down my outer elbow, through both sides of my forearms, and into my wrists and fingers. I can type so fast but I have to peck and pause now because it hurts so much.

I ended up in the hospital again. The doctor looked over all my past records and asked me if I’d ever been worked up for auto immune disease. I was taken aback and told her no. She asked me if anyone in my family has auto immune disease, and I told her about my sister, who has like five of them on top of each other. I already felt so much empathy for my sister, and have been inspired by her fight often, but this inability to do things I once could has given me a whole new appreciation. It’s terrifying and debilitating.

I want a bright future. We’ve come so far to fail now. Dan and I both are in constant pain; similar in nature. It drastically takes away from the quality of life. We’re both depressed because there is so much we want to do that we simply cannot do. I am scared because I am supposed to start using my degrees and begin a career, but I can’t even do my fucking dishes or sweep my floors.

Thanks to my amazing cousin I was able to go down today and get a copy of our marriage license, take it to secretary of state and have my ID fixed. When it comes in the mail I will be able to get insurance again, and so will my husband. Here’s to hoping that if they can’t heal the nerve damage we’re dealing with they can at least make it more tolerable for us. We’re only in our thirties. I can’t imagine our sixties at this rate.

I want to be there for my kids. To be able to run with them, play with them, and make memories that other parents do with their children, but I can’t. Instead, my daughters held plates while I piled food on them tonight because my arms would not allow the weight. My husband had to fit the sheet to the bed because my arms would not allow the downward motion, and he fixed the pillows because I couldn’t even lift those.

I keep trying and crying. I tried to move Jasmyne’s keyboard off her bed, and instant pain and tears sprung forth. Adriana had to remove it. I tried to carry a gallon of milk home from the corner store and shifted it hand to hand because the pain was horrid, and I swore I was going to drop it. I tried to wash dishes and my grip is so bad that I didn’t dare pick up the glass dishes. I wake up with fingers that cannot fist, and just to touch me I want to scream out in obscenities. It never used to hurt when people touched me. It does now.

Every night my Jayde comes and hugs me from behind before going to bed. It’s never been an issue. The last two nights I’ve had to tell her not to lean on my shoulders. I don’t want to live like this. I don’t want to tell my kids they can’t touch me god dammit. I am so fucking pissed off.