Remember when I was having an off day?
It turned into an off week.
We’re heading into an off month.
Sunday morning I got up with plans to do things and see things and I did things, and I saw things! I just did them and saw them while gritting my teeth through all-over joint pain. I called my doctor and ended up taking a Vicoden to knock myself out after wrestling with it all day.
I always feel like taking pain pills like that is such a cop out, and you know that taking medications like that always come back to bite you—like, oh, I’m sorry—did you want to leave your body for a few hours because of excruciating pain? Go ahead, I’ll just come back and make you feel like you have the world’s worst hangover in the morning. Enjoy!
Besides that, I always feel like I’m one swallow away from being the hay that breaks the camel’s back of my liver. Any day now it’s going to be like—that’s it. You’re 22. Even Ke$ha’s liver has it better than I do. I’m out. Peace.
I took the dose at 6PM and then decided I was definitely stoned enough that I didn’t need to take a second dose at 11. Although I did end up waking up from pain at 4AM and taking another half.
Why did I wake up in all-over pain? Who knows? What caused it? No idea. Just another joy of having a rare disease that science has yet to fully understand.
Anyways. The whole time I’m in fairy-tale vicoden land all I’m thinking about is how much I want a set of colored pencils and a sketch pad. Why? No idea, because when it comes down to it I am a terrible artist. I’m not even being self-depreciating; I literally have no artistic talent of any kind. My handwriting could be in Farsi for all it’s worth trying to read.
But sometimes you just need to do something with your hands, you know?
So this morning before I went to get my treatment I stopped at Marshalls and got two sketch pads (for a total of $5.99) and after debating whether or not my little art craving was worth the $50 professional colored pencils—I went with Crayola ($3.99).
Since I had an IV sticking out of my dominant hand for three hours though, I didn’t end up sketching until I got home later in the afternoon. It was a good distraction and I didn’t end up taking any more pain killers (and hopefully the pain is gone for good, and I won’t need any tonight either.)
Do any of you just have that bizarre joint pain that seems to come and go without an explanation?
Listen. I’m not letting it get me down—and don’t you either.
All hope is not lost. No life is truly a mess until you decide to make a Lifetime movie and start punching gypsies at a night club.
(Please vote for me for the WeGo Health Awards as Best Kept Secret!)