And in other news, I've decided to wean off the pain meds early. I'm pretty sure they are the culprit of this never ending migraine.
Yeah, it's a toss up. A debilitating migraine from the pills, or back pain without them. Which would you choose?
My choice is to take the pain relief out of my body to stop the migraine, and I'm really hurting. I've dealt with back pain for 4 years, so I'm used to it. I'm not used to the migraine, so fuck it.
Yesterday, my pain was so bad that I gave Papi a 'wee bit' of a hard time.
I dragged him out of bed to get some of my shopping done. Of course, I don't have a license, so when I need to do my major run around, I need my chauffeur.
However, my dearest love is healing from a sinus infection from overworking himself.
... i've already given him the 'i told'ja so' treatment, so don't worry ...
I dragged him out anyway. He didn't look as pale as he did the last few days, so the fresh air would do him good.
There we were at the mall, and he decided that as long as he was already here, he'd get some well needed shoes.
I was done with getting what I needed. I was also cooked from walking. My bitch of a back was killing me, and my was head pounding, so I took a seat.
Did I mention we were outside?
I was holding his old shoes in the new shoe box for him. They made a good chin rest for my throbbing head.
Then the time came where I really had enough of my bitch of a back screaming at me for sitting and wanted Papi here NOW!
Only I waited, and waited. Then I waited some more until I was fed up and in so much pain, my devil horns were sticking out of my head.
I tried to go walk to find him, so I could get the keys to the car. No point having keys to a car you can't drive, right?!?!?!
Well, I got a few yards and realized even the weight of the box of old shoes was too much for my back to carry.
I dropped them. Right then and there beside a garbage can, and they gave a loud 'THUD'.
Two rather tall, black men with an American drawl, were a wee bit concerned, "Hey girl! What's going on? What happened?"
In full, short, white girl attitude I flipped my hand and told them, "I'm not carrying his fucking shoes no more!"
They didn't know they were old, stinky, beaten ones.
They just thought I was a little firecracker who had enough of whatever my man did, and my man was going to pay for whatever it was he did wrong.
Once for dissing his little lady, and twice for having to buy the shoes a second time because someone would have stolen them by the time we got back to them.
The laughter I heard behind me was so awesome that I wanted so bad to turn around.
My back would prevent me of this. I already knew that, so I didn't bother looking to join in with my honky girl giggles.
Not to mention, I didn't have an iota of giggle in me.
I just carried on and gave a wave of my hand and off I went to find Papi. The Limping Lesbian, complete with sour face.
Every human that had ever felt back pain was giving me the look of, "Oh you poor, poor soul."
I looked in a couple of stores, then decided I was about to cry from the pain and couldn't walk any further, lest I would just have to walk back that same amount to get back to the car.
As I turned back to walk to the car, I heard my sweet love call my name.
Oh, poor Papi.
When I turned around, I must have looked like Medusa, because he almost froze in his tracks. "Are you mad at me?" Oh, I was hopping and let him have it.
Leave your femme waiting in the cold with a limp and no car keys? Oh, you'll get it all right.
My sweet love really didn't know how much pain I was in, but when I am to that point, not even a sighting of Mother Teresa would bring back an ounce of positivity to my spiraling negative state.
Once I was in recline mode in our car, I apologized to mi esposo for dumping his box of old shoes, which also had his new belt, only my fucked up memory from brain injury declined me of this information.
That's when I said to myself, "3 weeks. In 3 weeks I won't be in this pain."
That's when the anxiety of just how little time we have left here set in, and here I sit, a wee bit scared.
Frozen, to be exact.
Yeah, it's a toss up. A debilitating migraine from the pills, or back pain without them. Which would you choose?
My choice is to take the pain relief out of my body to stop the migraine, and I'm really hurting. I've dealt with back pain for 4 years, so I'm used to it. I'm not used to the migraine, so fuck it.
Yesterday, my pain was so bad that I gave Papi a 'wee bit' of a hard time.
I dragged him out of bed to get some of my shopping done. Of course, I don't have a license, so when I need to do my major run around, I need my chauffeur.
However, my dearest love is healing from a sinus infection from overworking himself.
... i've already given him the 'i told'ja so' treatment, so don't worry ...
I dragged him out anyway. He didn't look as pale as he did the last few days, so the fresh air would do him good.
There we were at the mall, and he decided that as long as he was already here, he'd get some well needed shoes.
I was done with getting what I needed. I was also cooked from walking. My bitch of a back was killing me, and my was head pounding, so I took a seat.
Did I mention we were outside?
I was holding his old shoes in the new shoe box for him. They made a good chin rest for my throbbing head.
Then the time came where I really had enough of my bitch of a back screaming at me for sitting and wanted Papi here NOW!
Only I waited, and waited. Then I waited some more until I was fed up and in so much pain, my devil horns were sticking out of my head.
I tried to go walk to find him, so I could get the keys to the car. No point having keys to a car you can't drive, right?!?!?!
Well, I got a few yards and realized even the weight of the box of old shoes was too much for my back to carry.
I dropped them. Right then and there beside a garbage can, and they gave a loud 'THUD'.
Two rather tall, black men with an American drawl, were a wee bit concerned, "Hey girl! What's going on? What happened?"
In full, short, white girl attitude I flipped my hand and told them, "I'm not carrying his fucking shoes no more!"
They didn't know they were old, stinky, beaten ones.
They just thought I was a little firecracker who had enough of whatever my man did, and my man was going to pay for whatever it was he did wrong.
Once for dissing his little lady, and twice for having to buy the shoes a second time because someone would have stolen them by the time we got back to them.
The laughter I heard behind me was so awesome that I wanted so bad to turn around.
My back would prevent me of this. I already knew that, so I didn't bother looking to join in with my honky girl giggles.
Not to mention, I didn't have an iota of giggle in me.
I just carried on and gave a wave of my hand and off I went to find Papi. The Limping Lesbian, complete with sour face.
Every human that had ever felt back pain was giving me the look of, "Oh you poor, poor soul."
I looked in a couple of stores, then decided I was about to cry from the pain and couldn't walk any further, lest I would just have to walk back that same amount to get back to the car.
As I turned back to walk to the car, I heard my sweet love call my name.
Oh, poor Papi.
When I turned around, I must have looked like Medusa, because he almost froze in his tracks. "Are you mad at me?" Oh, I was hopping and let him have it.
Leave your femme waiting in the cold with a limp and no car keys? Oh, you'll get it all right.
My sweet love really didn't know how much pain I was in, but when I am to that point, not even a sighting of Mother Teresa would bring back an ounce of positivity to my spiraling negative state.
Once I was in recline mode in our car, I apologized to mi esposo for dumping his box of old shoes, which also had his new belt, only my fucked up memory from brain injury declined me of this information.
That's when I said to myself, "3 weeks. In 3 weeks I won't be in this pain."
That's when the anxiety of just how little time we have left here set in, and here I sit, a wee bit scared.
Frozen, to be exact.
the anger does not reflect who i am
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