I’m still awake, no sleep. It was another very, very long night of pain. I keep looking at that sentence trying to understand how I got through that. I would compare it to giving birth without any assistance, on your bed. My mind goes everywhere. I mean it runs all over the place trying to hide…trying to make sense of what’s happening because honestly, it’s almost unreal. It’s like I can’t believe my body is acting like I’m on some alien horror show where it’s coming out of the hosts body.
I did just about everything I could to not think about this but it caught up with me. I panicked inside. I called my therapist. I played 50 levels of my favorite match three game and I cried for about 3 minutes. I feel humiliated…and I’m hungry. I would like a biscuit. I’d like to get my hair washed. I’d like clean clothes….meatloaf sounds nice.
The pain is in the area where she messed up my spinal block.
There will be someone here soon to help with clean up.
My eyes are all swollen and my vision is fuzzy. I just want to ball up in bed and sleep.
It felt like I had seconds before going from a level 8 to level 10 pain. Every move was calculated. Pull out liners, rest, grab heating pads from under the bed, rest, have water in sight, rest. I had to stop because every time I moved I spasmed from under the breast to my knees. I tried to work out the knots I could feel in my stomach and legs. I checked the electric cords, rest.
My eye sight goes so quickly at that time. Everything becomes fuzzy. I can feel the anger rise but I don’t have time for it. I only have seconds between helping myself through hell or suffering without any comfort at all.
I want to say right now that I hate my life but I don’t. I hate this part of it. I hate how exhausting it is. I hate that it strips me of dignity that I struggle to rebuild. I am afraid of my body and what it can do to me but I don’t hate my life. I just hate this moment and the moments that lead to feel so drained and afraid. It’s the most frightening thing ever, that pain is so scary. Thirty minutes is what it lasts, about, I think. And then I just lay there and try not to think about it.
I am not worthless.
The bed feels wet but its not. My clothes feel wet but they’re not. The blankets feel wet. I just ignore it. It’s another unexplained strange sensation.
Much later, after my body was done, I was pouring down with sweat. I hear that happens with CRSD but I’m not sure why. I sweat for about 10 min, just pouring down my face, dripping off my chin, sweating. It stopped and then 5 or 6 min later it started for another 10 min or so, pouring down sweat. I was standing in the living room at the time.
I’m not going to have meatloaf. I know that, but it sounds good. I’m just going to accept the help, change my blankets and remember I still have hope.
Oh my God! My God, I swear it’s going to break me.
I have Cheerios. I can keep that down, Cheerios it is.
The cat got washed. She never learns, It’s not the time to be curious when mom is projectile vomiting. I love my girl. I can even wash her without requiring medical attention.
I’d love a cup of coffee, but I’m not suicidal. I wouldn’t dare put that in me right now.
My door bell will ring in just a few minutes. I want to hide. I always apologize up and down………eventually I go to sleep.