9.999999999 Out of 10

My apologies for being lost in the personal. As soon as I can put a stop to it, I will.

I just don't understand what's happening to me.

Yesterday, for a while, things seemed clear. My right side was screwed up again, but a plan was in place, all I need do was grit my teeth and get to the next surgery date, either 12 or 19 days away, depending.

Late last night, around 2 am, as I was trying to get to sleep (insert laughter here), a pretty severe pain was developing in my left shoulder and neck. (I also had a prosthesis removed from that shoulder, with an antibiotic spacer put in its place, on 15 December 2008.) I mean *severe* pain, the kind of pain that makes you totally turn inward, although the inward turn does not preclude outward moans and groans.

Not much sleep happened, and the dozing that did? Definitely drug-induced. I don't often attempt to "snow" myself (must do some research on that interesting expression) but I made a clear and definite try. Watched TV filtered through an addled brain, played with Dobby (Dobby is always up for playing -- he will do it until he literally falls asleep on his "feet.") and when I could manipulate my eyes properly, read a crime novel. Sammy sort of watched over me -- it was very sweet. A few times, I jerked awake to find him sitting beside the offending joint, just staring at me. Thank God, he hasn't asked for any Unders, because just lifting the covers off of myself is nigh unto impossible. I am totally serious -- it is always difficult to have any sort of weighty fabric on my legs, especially, but this new pain has decided to take prisoners.

When Fred decided to wake and join the living, I had him hook me up to our TENS unit. I haven't used it in years -- it was a Christmas gift that I got him to help with his back pain. If I remember correctly, it's not supposed to stay on all that long. I have had it working hard and nonstop since around 11 am -- it is now after 5 pm. How is it helping? Is the pain relieved? It is, indeed, helping. By DISTRACTION. I try to focus on the zap-zap of it and take myself beyond the actuality of the hurting.

My right side? I am completely ignoring it today. The ache of it is far, far away.

I know, this is boring stuff, but I am panicky because the need for help is growing and the only place I could go is to the dreaded Emergency Department, a place I haven't visited since 2007, when I broke my arm.

Strangely congruent with my introduction to medical blogs, particularly ER/ED-focused blogs, was my decision to never again be caught dead there.

Seriously, there is so much venomous purple prose directed at the patients that it frightens me to think of being at the mercy of such jaded professionals. They consider themselves a bread* apart (which I think is part of the problem, although, sadly, it may be a requirement of the job) and their "plight" incomprehensible for the average mortal. Hubris, unqualified and ill-focused anger, and what I suppose some would call "burn out"? Not a personality profile to which I would willingly subject myself.

Okay, so my feelings *may* be overwrought, and my opinions more a reflection of my insecurities and unresolved potty training issues.

Severe (approaching 10/10) pain is not new to me. CAVING TO IT IS. There is something changed in me; There is a despair at the thought of another night. I feel suicidal. (Calm down, Darling Reader, I simply need to say it, so please allow me to say it. There! All better.)

(time passed)

I managed to relieve some of the building anxiety by speaking with the Fredster. He was pretty good about listening -- an important thing to note, given that I kinda exploded on him yesterday afternoon. And the bottom line? "What would they be able to do in the emergency room?" Okay, okay, okay. I was hoping just for relief. But I must remember all that anti-pain patient chatter I have read. I can imagine someone saying, "Hmmm. You are taking methadone, percocet, ibuprofen, and a muscle relaxant... and it is not helping your pain?" I can imagine the face that would go along with that voice, eyebrows cocked, mouth screwed in disapproval.
I don't doubt that I would receive help, because Dr. D would certainly tell them to provide it, but is it worth the aggravation of getting out of bed, getting dressed, bumping around in the car, sitting in a waiting room... the thought of how out-of-control I would be by the time I ever saw a doctor is daunting.

Oh, God this hurts. Eff it, just eff it.

Oh, if only I could just go to sleep and stay asleep.

*i just had to leave that typo. a bread apart? marble rye. un pain au chocolat, if we can include pastry...