The guilt of being sick

As dad is in my room, vacuuming & preparing for the carpet guys to come measure for carpet to replace what Chai bunny & I ruined, my heart breaks. I feel I shouldn't be allowed even to have pets. We say some people shouldn't have the right to have kids in their care & now I wonder the same about me after Chai bunny passes.

After seeing my brother, his lovely wife, & adorable nephews yesterday, I woke up today so sore my arms feel like they have been run through pasta maker arms that flatten over & over-& I wasn't even able to sit while they ate lunch, pick up my one year nephew & barely could gently hug my older nephew. I realized as we will soon live a few miles away from then they are probably realizing that I will become their burden-one they don't deserve, need, or should have to handle.

 

 

Art under a microscope

After taking some pictures that didn't come out as expected, I saw something in them I wanted to explore. After putting them through a litany of treatments, these two showed something about my anxiety I couldn't/can't yet explain.

girl with everything she owns on her back lost on the dark side of the moon.

 

A bat with a face (look close!) captured in the orbit of a planet. If he escapes he burns up in the surface or flies into space, weightless & lost. Kind of reflects my stress dreams, minus the cool space travel.

Feeling fully

Feeling so many emotions at once, I can't even express properly, so I'll let the pic speak for itself.

 

Did I tell you? Do you know?

I gasp as I have my mouth covered. Covered from my parents hearing me-as I hold my gasp in the palm of my hands, I suck in for air to be met with salty, wet palmed skin meeting my mouth. Dad has gotten me beer as my spinal shots, morphine lacking relief has failed. A last ditched begged effort for pity & relief. Did they hear me? Did I stifle enough? I try so hard as beer is as expensive as medicine that has yet to find me a hiding place.

 

He has bought me full-on Budweiser. The Czech original, corrupted by greedy Americans. I listen to William Fitzsimmons, & the loved Julia Stone on his gorgeous album. On my iPad, I can see it as orbiting planets & moons as far from the original album as I am with relief on the app 'planetery'. I watch as my songs orbit moons. Did I ever tell you how I love space? Did I ever tell you the 'Budvar/Busweiser' story? How many key things did I forget to tell you, as I thought we had all the time in the world? Will you hear this song & know why it makes me cry? I hope I did, or that you find it in my SOS emails. You're so smart-& knew me so well...but did I know it all myself at the time? Will you figure it out? As you travel our world, will you figure it out from my missing pieces?

 

I hope you think of me as I was, as the current has too many tears to stifle. So many tears yet to find.

 

 

Heating pads & terrored thoughts

After my 4 filling go around a couple of days ago, my back jaw tooth is starting to lessen pain wise, but the jaw & neck strain of one with TMJ has hit hard tonight. I've been laying on my angry back so I can have my head propped up with that strangely uncalming blue heating pad behind my neck, offcentered to the left with my face trying it's best to keep my unhelpful left jaw somewhere near the heat. The featured pic is reversed, as I have no good light source at present on that side, but hopefully you get the point.

 

My heart ached as I just finished a funny, grieving, poignant mystery wrapped in an unlikely love story from a British TV series on Netflix. Thinking of moving on-& the evidently us moving to Arkansas hits my heart with a panicked bolt of terror. Yes there are pain clinics...but have doctors moved there since I left who can do the spinal shots? My first Little Rock doctor did shots but at the source of the pain-not the root where the pain originated. Yes, I'm told pain killers like I take here are probably possible, but that alone isn't enough. And probably? Probably? I silently start weeping, quietly as Chai bunny has been so concerned & up on my bed no less than 7 times in the past few days-tears running down my half-hot face as I ponder 'probably'. Sitting in my primary care doctor's office Wednesday, I felt like I was holding out as I could tell she knew I was holding out, as I can't figure out how to say the words 'we are probably moving. In a few months'. Dad made the 6 month blood tests & follow-up as I waited in the car, not being able to stand lying in her office anymore. I asked him why we even made an appointment that we know we probably won't be keeping. It came out harsh when it meant to come out terrorized, but my brain is so lost it doesn't know how to communicate anymore. I just wish I could have a heating pad wrapped inside my head, go into a coma-like state & not come out until there were no more probablys, & only things have been made markedly better with your 3+ medical specialists.