Actually it was nine. Nine years ago today, I woke up in a lot of pain. I thought it was something to do with my periods, which had always been troublesome. It seemed to be the same sort of pain I usually had in my tummy, but spread all the way down my legs, up my back, into my neck and arms. Unfortunately a few days later my period finished and the pain did not diminish.
It hasn't gone away yet.
I think when it gets to ten years, I may have a party.
For some reason, the third anniversary was the hardest. I suppose it happened to coincide, within a matter of days at least, with my peers getting their A Level results which determined which universities they went to. And the three years aged 15-18 do seem terribly important at the time.
In other news, we're looking at having to move. Our rent is going up by £50 a month in October (15% increase, but the first increase in three years). The Housing Benefit people say that they assessed our rent in May, and only do it once every twelve months. So we're going to have to cover the increase between October and May and £50 a month is a significant fortune for people on benefits.
However, if we did move to a property with a similar, £350 rent, then Housing Benefit would cover the difference because it would be a brand new application. It is red tape, it is stupid, it is outrageous considering that poverty is currently defined as an individual living on less than half the average wage and we receive less than half the average wage between the two of us. Not that I consider us to be impoverished - we're not at all, really. We never have to worry about having enough food or paying the fuel bills. But £50 a month or £12.50 a week will have a notable impact on how much fun we get to have.
And most of all, this comes on top of a period of great turmoil, where there are several big decisions that have to be made and myriad complexities and implications to these decisions. We don't need this. I don't need it. [...] doesn't need it. We don't need it.
And I'm going to run out of painkiller. I have lots of lesser pills in stock and will survive, but the dispensary phone has been constantly engaged for the last three days and I have only got through to them this morning. Unless I am lucky and they have my prescription ready for this afternoon, I am going to have to wait for Tuesday.
All that having said, I am not feeling too bad today. I went round P's yesterday afternoon and caught up with him. [...] is pretty low but hysterically cheerful today. So it's not so bad really. And I don't feel particularly depressed about the nine years. Not at all really. Used to, but now it's just a fact of life, a part of history.
4 comments:
Running out of painkillers is a fear I live with - the muscular dystrophy only gives me mild pain but the foot ulcer I developed a couple of months ago gives me pain that I can only describe as "debilitating". Seriously: it hurts - I make sure I'm well stocked up with tramadol and amitripyline!
A tenth anniversary party is a must and I think all turning points in one's life should be remembered and celebrated, e.g. diagnosis, birthdays, being caught speeding, buying a new CD. You might think I look for any excuse for a party ... and you'd be correct!
;^)
A party is a great idea! Maybe we can find someone to host a Virtual Party for us all on your anniversary.
I know what you mean about the painkillers. I'm currently having trouble getting the samples of one of the meds my doc has me on. Been on it for 6months but the pre-approval paperwork is too much of a bother for her so she keeps handing out samples. Only problem is now her office doesn't have any in stock. grrr....
Update - I did manage to get my pills. I zoomed up to the dispensary after my physio appointment and miraculously they had it ready. I then managed to get to the chemist within a gnat's crotchet of the place closing. So phew, I got them.
Sorry the ulcer is still bothering you, Tim. My Granny has had ulcers on her legs and that discomfort is really not to be underestimated. She wound up with several and was on morphine for a while. It was a bit of a horror story, but she is 82 with has skin like tissue paper, and you're only a wee slip of a lad, so with any luck yours will getting better very soon.
The one thing to be said for having something like that - when it's gone, you'll rejoice in your relative ecstasy .
Um, "happy" anniversary?
I remain in disbelief that I don't have a CLUE what the date of when all my stuff started was; I've more or less narrowed each of three start-ups of varying degrees of problems to a particular month, based on what I remember I was or wasn't okay for around the time, but it seems kind of surreal that something I couldn't even imagine not getting dealt with within a few weeks is still controlling my life all these years later and yet I don't even remember when it began now.
Glad it wasn't too rough a day, and, I agree: 10 years begs a party.
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