It’s been rough for me to get motivated to do anything today, or days like today, because I’ve been feeling so sick that I can’t do much of anything, but that should be OK. I shouldn’t force myself to do certain things or act in certain ways on days like today. If I just want to space out on something for most of the day, sometimes, that’s OK, but only if I try later on.
I woke up feeling sick, or I should say more precisely, I woke up to spine pain.
It’s getting to the point now where waking up is an immensely displeasurable activity because in my dreams or even nightmares there will be no pain but as soon as I wake up, all I feel is full-body pain. It’s most intense in my spine but it makes getting out of bed difficult. It might be worse when I have to go do things, like yesterday’s awfully disappointing trip to that asshole pain management doctor, but even when I don’t, it’s still tough.
I had to take an Oxycodone to get through today.
I know this can easily get into addictive behavior, but the problem is, if my body is actively working against me in every single regard physically, then I can only mentally fight so long. On days where I don’t feel as mentally drained from the physical exertion, I can do well enough. Every day is a gamble and every day feels like I am one movement away from my spine hurting itself so severely that it ruins the rest of the day. I tried my best to articulate that yesterday, but there was no sympathy or respect from that doctor, so I have to wait until I meet with the sports medicine doctor before I can make my case again.
I ate too much yesterday as a stress reaction, which made me sick today.
I was feeling OK after I took the Oxycodone but after cooking some artificial eggs and cheese, I felt significantly worse. I needed to lie down. I couldn’t concentrate well. The cheese could have been bad, or maybe the eggs, but it took hours of suffering through stomach pains, which I was experiencing as a reaction to pushing myself yesterday but I was handling it well enough throughout yesterday, before I could feel normal again. I still feel drained but at least I feel more able to focus on writing or completing thoughts.
Now that I’m feeling better, it’s time to consider my next steps in life.
Since there’s not much I can do until the next appointment on Wednesday, I’ll have to temper any sense of physical ambition over the next few days. I don’t need to leave my apartment but I also shouldn’t do anything more than sit here in my writing chair, stand or walk around either at my 30-minute restriction timer which I can now gauge more now than when I first received that restriction, and walk around to the various parts of the apartment-mansion.
I have no pressing mail to get at the mailbox right now.
As much as I would like to deposit the check from my auto insurance company for an insignificant amount that’s been sitting in my wallet for weeks now, there’s not much I can do now to complete that errand, or picking up a package at the post office, so it makes more sense for me to defer those actions until after Wednesday’s meeting. Maybe the sports medicine doctor will be able to offer some sort of physical relief from my physical pain?
This is more of my wishful thinking, sure.
I shouldn’t be so optimistic as to assume that any of these doctors care about my health. It seems whenever I do, they prove that they do not care about my health in the slightest, no matter how much they lie to me to my face and say they do and they understand. At the very least, I’ll have gotten out on Wednesday to the appointment, so I can at least do one of those errands, if not both, to then clear them off my plate. I won’t be so ambitious as to assume that this sports medicine doctor will care enough about my health to where I might even be able to do more than that. I’ll simply have been in so much pain by going there and back that one more thing won’t make much of a difference in my overall pain level.
I’ll probably need to plan to take another Oxycodone on Thursday, then.
This is how my life is going to be, because these fucking asshole doctors care so little about trying to help me with my spine problems that all they want is to say it’s another doctor’s problem. On Wednesday, I can predict how it will go. I’ll go into that meeting, say hello, the doctor will do a few tests, determine that I should go to some physical therapy, that it’s not his problem anymore, and away I’ll go. I imagine that I’ll have to advocate for my existence to him, to say that I am still in constant pain, and he’ll say, “yes, yes, I believe you, yes, of course, you’re in pain,” and then give me some excuse or another about how it’s not his problem.
I can’t believe I still trust in the American Healthcare System.
This is why there’s a drug epidemic. It’s not because there are pill-pushing doctors, it’s that doctors don’t care about what they’re doing. He probably wants to write in the clinical notes: ‘The patient isn’t actually physically hurting, no! He’s not screaming out in pain. The patient also challenged me toward saying that I don’t believe in his pain, so therefore, he has some psychological issues, but he refused to go to counseling, and instead, insists that his pain is physical. How mistaken he is…!‘
However, instead, he’ll write about how I appear healthy.
|Sources: My personal experiences.|
|Inspirations: This nice compassionate doctor did imply that if I talked to someone about my physical pain that maybe it would go away. So here I am talking about my pain. Nope. It’s still here.|
|Related: Sober Living essays and Tripping On [The American Healthcare System] chapters.|
|Written On: 2020 November 07 [9:01pm to 9:27pm]|
|Last Edited: 2020 November 07 [First draft; final draft for the Internet.]|