It’s My Story

I am supposed to be getting my pills together for the night, but I don’t want to. Not because I don’t want to take them, I just don’t want to do anything. I hurt all over and have no desire to do anything. Noah made plans for us all day tomorrow and all I could think was that means I have to get out of my bed and be around people. There will be a lot of Xanax consumed tomorrow. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like he came in and said that we have to do things like clean the house or wash cars or go to the doctor. I just don’t want to do ANYTHING. I am trying hard to think of some funny anecdote to put here. Something cute Eli did, or something that made me laugh, but I am coming up dry.
Last night, had to go to the ER for a pain in my side that was so bad it made me feel like I was in labor but only if labor pains were one sided and I was going to birth the baby out of my hip. After about 6 tests, 5 hours, and 4 doses of morphine, they sent me home basically saying, we see nothing, sucks to be you, follow up with your pain doctor if you want real help with your pain. Well, my next pain clinic appointment is in 18 days! AWESOME! The pain has cleared some. I only feel like I am getting kicked in the side once an hour as opposed to once every 5 minutes.
But then came the blow to my emotions. I had said to one of my co-workers, “I can’t talk right now, I am in the ER.” when they called regarding something I could not talk about at that moment. He took it upon himself to post publicly “Prayers for Angela as she goes through health issues.” SON – I am always going through health issues. We visit the ER at least once every 3 months. Hospitalization is like a long weekend with needles and shitty food, and I am in the hospital clinic once a week! YOU DON’T KNOW ME! If I need help with prayer or anything, I promise, I will ask.
I don’t want claps and praise when I make it through tough times. I don’t want admiration or celebration when I manage to not need a transfusion one week. I know we should celebrate the small things, but that means different things for different people. I am an introvert when it comes to my trials and tribulations. One of the reasons I started this blog is so I could get them out instead of holding them so close I felt like I was going to pop. But much like people don’t want to talk about their mental health because of the stigma that is attached,  I feel the same way with my physical health.
If people ask,  I don’t mind answering questions. Mostly because then I get to set the record straight. I get to tell them the real story. Not something heard 3rd party.
So maybe that’s why I am so frustrated. Not that I don’t want people knowing. Not that I don’t want to celebrate sometimes.  I just want things said and done regarding my health done on my terms, with my own words. It’s my story to tell.


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