So, the last few days happened. It's been a horrible week. I made it into work a few hours here and there but made a big dent in my remaining sick hours.
I'm scared. The pain has been intense, baseline around 7 or 8. Climbs up to 9 frequently. Makes me want to go to the hospital to get morphine, but I know that would only be temporary and then they'd send me home again to deal with this for who knows how much longer.
My PT appointment on Wednesday aggravated everything. She assured me she wouldn't be rough, that everything she did would be gentle and non-inflammatory. But it wasn't. She is awesome—super sharp, knowledgeable, and decisive. And just fun to be around, as fun as someone who mildly tortures you can be. But she is killing me, inflaming my pain to the point where I miss days of work, and I don't know what to do. Not going to her leaves me in pain. Going to her makes the pain worse with the hope that it will speed up the healing process.
It's been hard for me to function normally, so my husband is picking up the slack. He's been putting meals together, walking the dog, etc. But it's not enough, and I feel like a brat for saying that. He picked up some extra work this morning and I was livid when he told me last night. I need him badly, need him to cook even more, buy more groceries, and start to do some cleaning. I need him here. So, we had that discussion. I hadn't realized how much I wasn't telling him what I needed.
Today I'm trying the "lying perfectly still" technique, moving as minimally as possible to not aggravate my body further. I've had mixed results with this in the past, so we'll see how it goes. (ETA: I suck at lying perfectly still. I'm doing some PT and other stretches although I'm not convinced they're always good for me.) In addition to pain both burning and dull, I'm having nausea and headaches, I think as a result of tapering off the amitriptyline. It is a great combination.
I hate being in survival mode. There is so much I want to do, even boring stuff like laundry. I don't know how to make myself better and have no idea when this will end. When I'm being unrealistic, I can fool myself into thinking I'll be drastically better tomorrow, but then I give myself a reality check. Big improvements haven't happened in ages. If I'm being honest with myself, my pain level is the same as it was the week after my surgery in March. The type of pain is a little different but who knows if one type signals healing more than another.
I'm exhausted. I had a few minutes this morning when I felt like I could write decent comments to some blogs, but that ability left me quickly.
Adding insult to injury is side effects from the Pill: acne, sore boobs, and weight gain. Or maybe the weight gain is from Lyrica. Whatever it's from, I'm not a fan. Weight is not usually an issue for me; lack of appetite is. Suddenly, I have a great appetite but no ability to exercise it off. My husband brought home 8 cupcakes last night that someone at work had given him, which does not help my situation.
I don't want to alarm you with how bad the pain is. It probably sounds like I should call my doctor or get to the ER. However, I've been going through this for a while and tried that. I've had CT scans and ultrasounds and nothing life-threatening is going on. It's just utterly miserable and they're doing all they can to fix me. The pain shouldn't be as bad as it is, but apparently I'm the freakish outlier who has to deal with it.
Send me good vibes that I at least get a shower today.