i had my normal appointment with pain management yesterday. Every time i make it there on my own, i feel a sense of victory.
i had been really ragey because a friend contacted me, to tell me my mother’s boyfriend died. He wouldn’t reveal who the source was, which sent me overtheedge and into a rage.
Why would anyone agree to keep secret whoever was sending a message for me?
i can well imagine it is Dawn. So i had a return message-an MRI photo of damage she made worse, crushed vertebra, so much damage my spinal cord is compressed, leaving me in pain. i also suggested everyone go Fuck themselves.
So, anyhow, i made it to my doctor. After, i sat in the shade at 68th and Lex, and just soaked in the beauty and drank an iced coffee from Bel Ami. And i thought, this is my life. A life where i got up to serve my Master, had the house ready for her return home, had enough money to never have to worry about the simple enjoyment of a well made beverage, and looking like such a real New Yorker that i gave directions to Brooklyn to a British couple.
i just sat and breathed and decided right there, with my legs dangling off the cool bench, that i would and could just let the rage go.
On the way home, i picked up eggs and butter, planning to make breakfast for dinner. The house was already clean, so i decided to nap.
i woke up hours many later, when Sir Raven came to bed, unable to undress or get under the blankets. i kept waking myself up, moaning in pain, talking, asking for the pain to stop. i had popped something out on the ride home, in a packed subway car. A man had just stopped while i was going down the stairs and reached across as he was going up the stairs to hold my arm, walk backwards down the stairs, intent on helping me. i had just felt my mid back slip out, was out of pain medicine, and had another half hour ride to get through.
It was pain that sent the memories reeling the day before, not the other way around. i am hopeful that today will get better, but realistic. Muscle relaxers all day and resting-i know the rules. i hate being this way. i hate that everyone who hurts me gets to go on with their lives, and i have to pay.
i just resent the traumatic brain injuries, the pain, the having to work ten times harder than anyone else, the uncertainty.
At the same time, i feel tremendous gratitude, because i made it out. i’ve done everything no one thought i could do. And i’m not done, yet. This is just a difficult time, physically. It will get better, eventually. i can’t wait for Sir Raven to get home. ❤