Hurt and angry..

I took a fall yesterday morning trying to get out of bed to go to the bathroom. I couldn’t get up off the floor myself and had to call Husband to help me. The are only 2 things I can possibly find to be grateful about with that:

1. I managed to not pee myself when I hit the ground which would fairly literally add insult to injury.

2. I was not injured worse.

Other than that the situation pretty much blows. Being an addict in treatment for opiate addiction means any time you have new pain, due to injury or illness you have this weird tightrope to navigate between caring for your health situation and not relapsing. I didn’t have Husband take me to the emergency room because wtf would they be able to do for me? There is nothing they can offer me that I can actully take without jeopardizing my treatment situation and there is a reason I choose to suffer on a daily basis rather than jeopardize that.

I did go see my primary care yesterday afternoon due to pelvic pain I’ve been having since Saturday which feels like the dreaded return of ovarian cysts. I must be one of few unlucky women who have had hysterectomies and still manage to be polycystic. When my gyno did the hysterectomy in 2010 she sold me on leaving in the diminished right ovary portion I had left at the time of that operation, saying that it would still secrete hormones which would help me with the premature menopause. My left ovary and part of my right had been taken out in 2001 as they had been taken over by tumors. I will always be glad that they didn’t give me a total hysterectomy in 2001, because that allowed me to be able to have Son, who I cannot imagine life without. However, in addition to still secreting hormones, the remainder of right ovary also still manages to make lots of cysts. In 2013, this was a major issue and I was supposed to have surgery for it, but that was kind of eclipsed by my life spiral and detoxing after 6 or so years of active addiction and the cysts must have resolved on their own either that or they just stopped hurting till now.

So I’ve got to have a transvaginal ultrasound. If you have never had one of these and can avoid it, I’d say count yourself blessed. When you are experiencing pelvic pain, the last thing you want is a giant instrument poking around down there.

OK, having completely alienated all of my male readers, I’ll move on!

This morning I woke up at around 4, far more sore than usual and again, needing to pee. I tried to get up and had a great amount of difficulty, tried to get Husband’s attention and failed (we’re in one of our sleeping separate but still amicable phases atm) so I tried again and thabkfully managed, though with great effort, to navigate my way to the bathroom and back without incident.

Feeling rather pissed and no longer in danger of pissing MYSELF, I knocked on Husband’s studio door. He wasn’t in there. Checked the living room, no Husband, only Son asleep on the pullout bed. Son loves sleeping on the pullout (for some mysterious reason) and it’s a privilege he’s allowed during summer months as long as his behavior is in line. Having checked everywhere else and noticing Husband’s keys were gone, I figured he made a wee hours run to Walmart.

So I called him.

Me: Where are you?

Him: Pulling in to the complex soon. I just went to Walmart to get the essentials, something to drink, bread, and a bag of charcoal.

Me: Essentials… Did you get milk?

Translation: I know you just consider essential something your selfish ass wants! Never in a million years would something I wanted at 3 am be considered “essential”.

Him: No, but there’s always daytime trips for things like milk. I’m parking now.

Translation: Because milk is important to your everyday life and not mine, it will never be thought of as essential by me. And I’m done caring about this now, so get off the phone.

So he gets inside and then he says:

What made you come looking for me?

Me: I needed help getting to the bathroom and you weren’t there so I figured out you had gone to the store.

Him: Good job!

Me, incredulous: Good job for deducing that you went to Walmart at 3 am?

Him: Nooo…umm.. good job for taking yourself to the bathroom and not falling again.

To which I have no response, except seething rage. Asshole! Does that mean I did a “bad job” when my bone on bone joints gave out yesterday, causing me to hit the floor and aggravating who knows how much of the damage in my already mutilated joints??

Are you fucking kidding me?

I’m sad, hurt physically and emotionally, and really angry today. The plan is to rest up before I have to leave for a church commitment at 5:30 tonight.

Today, I’m grateful for Youtube. It makes me laugh and laughter can change my mood even when it’s super dark. Plus, without Youtube I’d never have known footage like this exists:

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