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It's everything I want to tell people when they make small talk and profound talk, but I often can't. Sickness, sex, and the process of dealing with aging parents feel unspeakable and sometimes unreachable, but they sure aren't here.

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

Ahhh, the day after...

Originally uploaded by floorvan.

Acidic, puckered-face, and whining. That's about the sum of it right now. I couldn't get out of bed until 3:30 p.m. This is not a gift. This is the reason why the ADA (Americans with Disabilities Act) was created. If I could be out and up and doing lots of things besides wondering if the back of my head has been cored out, I sure would. If I could better control the pacing of weekly methotrexate with my hormonal cycles, that would be great. As it stands, it is hit and miss, even after these years, which means a day of huddling. Last night, or rather early this morning at 3 a.m., I watched a somewhat well-done teen-angsty movie (_All Over Me_) from the floor in the living room. The back pain was unbearable, and a hard floor seems to help so that I can run through every stretch and exercise any physical therapist has ever taught me. It did help. Shockingly I managed to finish enough work last night that I did not despise myself. That's my standard - generally, I meet it. I look at the amount of work to be done on the book, and sometimes I want to cry, but instead I get angry and riled and hop to it. Because of today's ickiness, I'm fairly certain my doctor will tell me to cancel an appointment with him in which he is supposed to make a final determination on whether I have a cyst or a tumor. One means surgery definitely, and one means surgery possibly. I'll let you guess which is which. It might sound cowardly, but I'm not opposed to waiting until next week to get this news.

Photo credit: by floorvan on flickr (click on photo for more of this artist's work).


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