These last few weeks have been miserable. We kicked off the new year without insurance and, of course, I ran out of Sulfazine at the same time. I’d already been having breakthrough pain. Throw in the brutally glacial temperatures that rolled in with January, and the week and a half or so without my medication was hell. Thankfully, I had some Tramadol left, so made due until I was able to get our insurance turned back on.
(Never, ever take health insurance for granted. Ever. Lesson learned.)
I’ve refilled my prescriptions and resumed my regular dosage, but it’ll be some time before it builds up enough in my system again to quell the fire in my body.
Inflammation is the worst.
I’ve got more Tramadol and Tiger Balm to carry me through, but after four months with hardly any pain, I’m having a hard time readjusting. On the first really bad day, there were a lot of tears. The other night, I was so exhausted I collapsed on my couch around 8pm and passed out under my electric blanket.
(Turns out Invader Zim is so much weirder than I’d remembered, but the comfort of the show I loved in my teens was enough to lull me to sleep.)
So I’m writing again, but very slowly. Last year, when I was in remission, I worked my way up to writing at least 3,000 words in an hour. Now I’m lucky if I can churn out 1,000. Even if my wrists and fingers didn’t hurt so much, the rest of the pain throughout my body is enough to blur my focus.
It’s frustrating, to say the least.
But I have learned to appreciate the power of scissors. Almost all packaging defeats me—even Emergen-C packets with their perforated edges. I’m finding that there are few problems a good sharp pair of kitchen scissors can’t solve.
(Emergen-C, by the way, is a wonderful invention. One of the symptoms of my disease is bone deep fatigue—and it’s also a side effect of Sulfazine, sigh. Emergen-C gives me the boost I need that caffeine can’t quite achieve anymore.)
I’ve been taking every day very slowly, but I have to say I’m relieved the weekend is here.