I'm so weak I can do nothing but lie here on the couch and waggle my fingers over this damned keyboard. It's kind of ridiculous that I actually have to recover from a visit to the doctor. I was there for 5 hours, not counting travel time. I'm surprised my house wasn't entirely filled up with dog crap when I returned.
Besides my usual complaint that I am screamy sore and can't he please do something about it, he asked he if I was sleeping. I am NOT sleeping. What I have is sort of a half-sleep, not fully unconscious, but not fully awake, either. It's a strange state. He said he'd give me sleeping pills. I said I didn't want them unless they were the type that made me sleep through a five alarm fire and wake up refreshed. He laughed. I tried to kick his shins, but missed.
I get a lovely mixture of oxy and tramadol, along with a generous dose of ativan to smooth things out. It used to make me barf. Now I just sit around with my tongue lolling out, like one of the dogs. At least we look like a family that way. Anyway, I don't think I need a sleeping pill thrown in the mix. On the other hand, maybe not sleeping is hindering any recovery I might have. We shall see.
I feel terrible. He told me, "You're going to be ok." I told him he was a liar, knowing full well he stole that line directly from Norman Vincent Peale, and called him on it. Pfft.
Besides my usual complaint that I am screamy sore and can't he please do something about it, he asked he if I was sleeping. I am NOT sleeping. What I have is sort of a half-sleep, not fully unconscious, but not fully awake, either. It's a strange state. He said he'd give me sleeping pills. I said I didn't want them unless they were the type that made me sleep through a five alarm fire and wake up refreshed. He laughed. I tried to kick his shins, but missed.
I get a lovely mixture of oxy and tramadol, along with a generous dose of ativan to smooth things out. It used to make me barf. Now I just sit around with my tongue lolling out, like one of the dogs. At least we look like a family that way. Anyway, I don't think I need a sleeping pill thrown in the mix. On the other hand, maybe not sleeping is hindering any recovery I might have. We shall see.
I feel terrible. He told me, "You're going to be ok." I told him he was a liar, knowing full well he stole that line directly from Norman Vincent Peale, and called him on it. Pfft.
Actually, I feel like an Aztec sacrifice - like I've had my heart ripped out. I wonder how many Aztec priests looked at their victims and said "You're going to be ok!" right before they ripped out their hearts?
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