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Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Right Out There Crazy Detoxlog some number...

This whole friggin miserable deal is starting to piss me right off. Back to the nights of waking up 8 times in hot sharp pain, never really sleeping, unless I'd downed a bottle of wine...which ain't happening now, or ever again... getting up finally, emitting a stream of obscenities Maus would blush at, and making it hostilely to the Chair and Computer. Answer some emails, stare hatefully at the empty cup of coffee (when did getting a fucking cuppa become an Olympic achievement? Yesterday?)... take the white pill, take the pink pill, wait to see if anything works.

I wish I could describe well enough what it feels like when the core of your body shivers in cold while the rest of you is streaming sweat. These fucking nights will suck the will to live out of me. I have to get music to my bedside somehow. BBC Worldwide overnight only makes you want to suicide bomb when you're in this shape; and let's not talk about radio stations around here. or anywhere in the US anymore, at that hour. The safest thing I can eat right now- dairy- gives me allergic reactions. All the things the meds have masked for these 4 years are quite back in stunning Technicolor. And all these little things we ignore or take for granted become huge issues at 3 a.m. when it's too early to get up, really, but how will you sleep with these pains anyway? Silent, alone, pissed off, all goofiness gone now, just angry. So I read for a while until I just have to get off my hip or back or shoulder because who can concentrate in this where there is no comfort at all?

So you get up and try to go about your day as if you were normal. But you can't because there's all this pain ya haven't felt in years. Now I'm worrying that even the progress I'd made by doing my PT daily is gonna disappear because I truly can't bear the pain to keep doing them. For all a single Naprosyn does I might as well throw it at my head. Take an anti-anxietal? I Have. That was the pink pill. This is me supposedly chilled out, drugwise, after hours of being up and about. Not chilled at all.

So, WTF to do? I'll try to make art today. See if my hands are steadier. Listen to my friends do the radio show. Probably come back here and bitch some more. According to medical-type family and friends, I'm still detoxing. 2 FULL WEEKS LATER. Still getting this shit that filled everything, every cell in my body, processed out.

Oh, Westy, thanks for the Floyd. That's where I need to go. Music.

signed,
The Whining Viking

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