when screaming is the only option
I feel like I need to remark this, just in case you all need it to illuminate the story of my death, whenever that might happen. I am hopefully joking right now because last night I was done. Done done done. I actually uttered “kill me now,” which I hear Don exclaim often enough but is so not my style.
This is what happens when your healthcare system is set up as it is. You try everything but what you should do, just to survive without ruining anyone’s life. I thought, shit–my blood thinners I forgot a few times. Maybe it is a DVT that wrecked my leg and left me shaking on the bed next to Don crying for relief. I tried fucking everything. I would have taken vicodin if I had it but it was just Tylenol. Had sex with Don and suddenly the leg, the foot, the leg and foot were not about it. Yeah yeah yeah, aren’t you the girl who has had aneurysms from sex? Yes. Yes that is me but we have been together for what, 8 years now this Fall–that is thousands of times before this so would not make any sense unless I considered how long I had laid down this past weekend.
Walking 10,000 steps a day is cake if you can and you are as ants in your pants as I am. But this past weekend we kind of took a down weekend and I was laying down early and staying in bed late both nights and even last night. So when the pain hurt I cried. I tried everything–massage (yikes!), hot pad, even a hot shower. What I did notice after the hot shower was how not-affected my bad leg was–it did not get red and puffy like the other foot did getting exposed to the hot water. It was just as cold as it was before the shower and was purplish in places whereas as the unhurt leg was pink and fluffy.
So what did I do? I took fucking Tylenol. I thought of all the money I owe the hospital for my ER visit in April and how I do not feel right going in when they are parsing my debts out to many collectors and they all want a piece. I did remember the Lovenox I had in the fridge so I made Don do one of those. Does it break the clot up? Nope, but it will prevent a new incidence, and I am off as it is, so there was my solution. He is also better at not hurting me than even I am so he is the master shot giver.
So my dog didn’t freak out and since dogs do know things, the doctor seemed a luxury I did not want to endure. Did she just say her dog didn’t alert her to her impending death so all was good? Why, yes, that is the fucking state of things for sure. See what we have become? I had read my reports the past two years. I decided to Lovenox myself vs going to the hospital to get into massive debt again. I actually sat there on the bed like a big stupid fucking baby crying because Don and I will have to get divorced because it is not his fault I was born. Wasn’t mine either but why take two down when you only need to hobble one?
You wouldn’t dare if you were me, knowing what I know.
*ps. I will take your thoughts and prayers. I am getting lucky if I get out of this one alive, that is the truth
