I really thought that I would live to be at least 60 or 70 before suffering the aches and pains of outrageous fortune, having already been hit a multitude of times by the slings and arrows of same, but I was wrong. As of June I have been fighting some kind of autoimmune/rheumatism/whatever the doctor is calling this week that basically makes everything hurt. The sad thing is that the NSAIDs like ibuprofen, naproxen and so forth don’t touch it, which means I’m on to the opioids, which I’m not terribly excited about, for any number of reasons, but not being in pain is a big plus. If medical mj was legal, I might even give that a try, though I’m still not convinced I am willing to go that far.
So anyway, between all the meds I’m trying to get straightened out, and the pain issues, I haven’t been having a lot of fun since the last time I posted here. Our little dog Buster got hit by a truck, so we’ve been trying to nurse him back to health, and I’ve been fighting depression and anxiety as part of the whole pain/feeling sick/working from home because of the pain/listening to the little dog barking from separation anxiety from my wife all day long to the point that I have a constant migraine and I am ready to just fill my tank full of gas drive somewhere and disappear.
And then my wife comes home and gives me a big hug, cooks up a big pot of her chili, and takes care of me, tells me that I can handle just about anything that comes my way and suddenly things start to look better, and I can start to see that maybe just maybe I can keep going.