So, I am dealing with increasing levels of pain due to my body hating me. That is, I have arthritis and other problems going on with my knees, lower back, and most recently, my goddamn Achilles tendons. (Bone spurs. I think, but can’t confirm that the bone spur situation is related to the feeling that my Achilles has been beaten with a baseball bat.)
It should be noted that at least a few of these problems have been going on since my thirties (where I first started having problems with my knees). I did not attend to these increasing problems due to a lack of insurance/Medicaid. (And also, I have a slight Thing about going to the doctor: I have been influenced to believe that doctors do not actually know what they’re talking about. There are members of the the family who are very squirrelly about medicine/doctors/hospitals…despite the part where many of them have also worked in hospitals as nurses or techs of some kind.) It is unavoidable that this influence would rub off on me.
It has been a very slow process because of doctors who decide to diagnose me with fat. (I’m currently at 300. One of my meds makes you fatter.) I do not like being diagnosed with fat, because this means they will not pay a damn bit of attention to any other symptom I try to bring to their attention. This became painfully obvious when I had to take some respiratory tests a few weeks ago. (I have asthma and sleep apnea.)
So, one of the problems the tests brought to light was that I was having trouble taking deep breaths. The doctor decided that the reason I was having trouble taking deep breaths/holding my breath is because I’m fat. Not because of a physiological problem (my lungs are pretty weak, because breathing deeply can be painful.) Not because of my asthma itself (there is usually gunk in my lungs even with meds. I used to get lung infections pretty regularly.) Nope, it’s entirely because I’m fat. (I am tempted to fib to my primary care and say the lung doctor suggested a breast reduction. If my boobs are so heavy they’re squishing my lungs I need to do something!)
I have been going to regular chiropractic appointments for my back. These have been effective, though getting up after having my spine stretched or manipulated can be a little adventurous. I am also taking a muscle relaxer and pain pills for my back. These have also been effective but they also make me extremely sleepy. (Which has an impact on how much I can read or write.)
The appointments have taken a lot of time. I don’t/can’t drive so it takes a while to get to appointments because I usually take the bus. (local medical transportation is occasionally terrible and navigating the phone tree to get a ride is Very Damn Stressful.) I was going to two groups a week (which also took time). Then there was the counseling appointment, which at least was a home visit. (But still kind of stressful.) Again, this all impacted my ability to write or work on galleys.
However, I have managed to get a number of things worked on.
- After some work with my last counselor(s) I came up with a better form for my bullet journal/work-errand sheet. (It’s still a work in progress though.)
- In an effort to remind myself that Things Need to be Done, I have little notes everywhere at eye level listing various suggested tasks. (Yes, they do help. No, I can’t tell something needs to be done just because it’s there. Mess literally becomes part of the scenery.)
- Because I’ve been forgetting my meds, I created a little card to keep track, and a little schedule of what to take when.
- I finally bought a vacuum cleaner. (before, I was using one of those little floor sweepers.)
Today, I have been working on getting some older book reviews ready to schedule. This involves getting the cover art, and making a Word doc file for each of them. (Since these older reviews no longer have docs due to Google eating them/accidentally losing them while trying to move everything to a new portable drive.) These reviews are all from my previous writing blogs and can also be found on Goodreads. I also need to start at least one of my galley copies and read through the serial novel. (And stop considering a hate fic for J.T. McIntosh’s The Fittest. It’s such a shiny idea though…)
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