Saturday, April 13, 2013

Mutant powers aren't all they're cracked up to be...

I've said it a few times- my superhero power is fast healing. That accounts for my ugly scars and the fact my knee healed so quickly after my knee replacement that the doctor had to knock me out and bend my knee for me. He described it as: "Snap, crackle, and pop" as the adhesions (sort of like scar tissue) were broken up as he forced my knee to bend to 90° (up till that point, it had been going to around 70° with help, 50-ish in its normal state).

I've had a hellish week. Maybe longer, I don't even know anymore. I trudge on because what else can I do? On the days I don't have to leave the house, I take my Vicodin on a six-hour cycle. The days I have to leave the house, I don't.

You all know the drill... aching muscles, focused pain in different parts. On top of all that, my skin is aching. The shower hurts. The water hitting me feels like hot needles jamming into my skin. I can't tolerate the tiny dogs stepping on me. It feels like someone is jamming a rod into my muscle when teeny-tiny, four-pounds-on-a-good-day Beefy steps onto my lap. I've been swelling for over a week now, too. My legs, ankles, and feet. I don't know if I'm swelling anywhere else because when my skin hurts like this, I wear my huge clothes. Mostly the 4x and 5x "I shoot RAW" T-shirts. 3X is loose, but not loose enough. And don't even come at me with a 2X. That barely fits over the boobshelf on a good day. I sleep naked (sorry for that mental image), but between  the "get out of bed" and "take a shower, get dressed" stages of my day, I have to wear something. Since I used to exercise in the mornings, I'd put on sweats and a loose T-shirt. I still do. Except now its yoga pants and a huge T-shirt. (mostly, black yoga pants and my blue 5x "I shoot RAW" T-shirt). Today, after my shower, I put on a different pair of black yoga pants and my maroon 5x "I shoot RAW" T-shirt along with my black, fleece-lined hoodie. I was going to change before I sat down to write this, but jeez, why bother? I'd be switching a pair of yoga pants for an older pair of yoga pants and a huge T-shirt for a slightly more-worn huge T-shirt.

My hands are aching, not like arthritis (thank fuck, because that shit hurts more than the fibro-ache), but when they get to the point of being so sore that I have to rub them, it feels like I'm rubbing the skin from my bones. The pain in the muscles and tendons in my hands and fingers feels like it goes right through the bones. I assume because my finger bones are closer to the surface than say... my ass, I mean my hip. Not my ass... that cushions my hips, but there's a lot of ass between the skin and the bone. Or something.

We had rain and cold all week. I assume that's what caused this flareup. Whatever it was, it can just fucking stop now. Seriously. I'm done with you. I need to go to Home Depot, goddammit and I can't do that if you're going to attack me like an angry, yet lazy The Blob. That's his real name, right? The Blob. I mean, just "Blob" is a little familiar and I'm not going to call him "Mister Blob" because fuck him, he's a blob.

Now this is going to take a random jump, because I had to stop typing for a few minutes.

I really want to sit on the sofa and watch a movie (I don't know what, we have tons, even a few I haven't watched yet), but I know what it will feel like when I try to get up after two hours of sitting there. It will hurt. It will hurt so much that I can't find adequate words to describe how much it would hurt. And right now, after hurting so much for so long, I don't want any extra hurt.

I mentioned taking the Vicodin on a six hour cycle- I should mention also that it doesn't take the pain away. It takes the edge off the pain. It makes me hurt a little less so I don't end up crying. Although, at this point, I just might put in a really sappy movie and just let myself cry at that so I can feel better after. Although, I'm not sure I'd feel better, because I'd have that pesky "sitting on the sofa, can't get up" pain.

Here is my normal pain. Normal, manageable, totally go without Vicodin all day.

This is the "I just got up from the sofa" pain. The kind of pain that makes me exclaim swear words. The kind that brings me to tears.

Does that help? Do you get what I'm saying? Are you picking up what I'm putting down? Are you smelling what that rhino is cooking?

No, wait... that's not quite right. I don't think you can really grasp the whole thing here. So, I made this in Photoshop.

Ah, there we go... that's more like it.

All I've done so far was bitch about the pain. I haven't even whined about the exhaustion. Well, I really can't. I've had some days when I'm so tired I can barely sit up and I've had other days when I'm fine. The one constant in all these days is the pain. The Disabled Guy called me today about something trivial (the title of a movie) and I tried to explain to him that I wasn't thinking clearly because of all the pain and Vicodin. He didn't care. He just wanted to know what the name of a movie was. Spoiler alert- "Planet Terror" from the "Grindhouse" double feature.

I have to go now. I made a strawberry cheesecake because I had too many strawberries and had to do something with them before they went bad. What? That's a perfectly reasonable thing to do an hour after you take Vicodin. Also, this happened today. 

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