Posts Tagged ‘pain’

14 st 10

November 5, 2012

One pound down this week, and a pound honestly earned. Tis good.

Would write more but it is two am and I am typing with one finger. Coconut has virtually not slept since breaking her arm, and tonight is no exception. It’s awful listening to her sob.

I couldn’t make this up if I tried. Am I the most accident prone person alive? No, my stretchy ankle ligaments have betrayed me yet again!

February 23, 2012

You know how when you accidentally trip you glance around to see who saw you fall?

No shit, today I sprained my left ankle, sprained my right foot, strained my right wrist, hurt my pelvis, and made mincemeat out of both feet and my right hand. And my poor phone.

I was covered in mud and blood and had four x rays taken.

When you fall like that, you don’t give a *shit* who saw you, unless they are there to carry you home on an air mattress, washing your wounds with magical liquid that fairies pee out every third full moon.

The sun’ll come out….

August 10, 2011


Tonight is my last night with two fabulous one year olds. Tomorrow at 2 18 and 2 19 pm I have two TWO year olds.

I hope I’m home for the afternoon. I’m just packing my hospital bag for the morning. Robe, kindle (thank you, sister, for your awesome hand-me-downs!), phone charger, etc. I’m using our Onbag, so all the babywearing mama power comes with me to the hospital.

It’s been a long three years of constant pain. Yes, literally constant.

I want to walk properly again. I want to go hiking next summer. I want to go to the zoo and not need a wheelchair. I hope tomorrow, and the subsequent injections a month later, are the start of something good.

I’m kind of afraid to hope too hard, so I’m sort of blase. I welcome your hope, though.

Time to stop fucking around, methinks.

December 8, 2010

Sleeping post IS coming, but just needed to get this off my chest:



Ready to hear me whine? Because if not, I’ll be honest with you: skip this post and just read the next time I write. I won’t be offended. Honest.

It’s just that things are so bad, my pain is so bad, and I’m starting to feel my emotional health taking a dip. It’s the old fear about this being ‘it,’ that there is no recovery for me.

I had a relapse about four weeks ago, and it hasn’t gotten better. Now I’m in the week before my period and…oh. I may cry.

It’s so bad, guys. So, so bad.

Last night I had to go to the bathroom before bed, and I got fucking stuck sitting up on the edge of the bed. Literally could not move without ripping pain that was making me cry out – even though I was lip biting and trying to keep quiet. Tears were rolling down my cheeks, and I felt the urge to do ‘little kid crying’ – you know, big hiccuping gulping sobs.

I couldn’t walk. Again. Was unable to have any weight on an individual leg, so resorted to crutches and shuffling my feet along the floor. When I got into the bathroom, I couldn’t bend over to pick up the toilet lid. It was literal agony, and I think I can say with a fair degree of confidence that my pain tolerance is pretty fucking high – especially after dealing with chronic pain for the last two years.

I finally got the lid up, but the act of sitting down was like I was being stabbed by rusty knives in my lower back, my hips, my spine. I couldn’t stop crying.

This morning it’s not really any better. I’m back on a full dose of codeine and this other ‘super’ anti-inflammatory. It’s not doing anything. Or maybe it is – though I can’t imagine more pain than I am currently in.

This will go away, right? Last month I was so happy when I got my period, because that usually heralds some relief, but it just stayed.

I had gotten used to my new ability/disability levels. It was my new norm. This latest foray into ever deeper pain is really testing me, because it makes my usual chronic pain look like happy little sprites eating pizza on a rainbow. I feel like I have hit bedrock and begun to tunnel into the bedrock.

I can deal with pain as long as I can carry on with my ‘new normal.’ The problem is, this extreme pain is meaning I can’t do things.

When your child looks up at you and holds out their arms, wanting you to pick them up and hold them – and you cannot do it – oh, that hurts the worst of all.


July 23, 2010

Today the pain is so bad I sit here, watching them in their pajamas and too full nappies, and wonder how I am supposed to cope.

Please humour me and tell me this WILL go away. At some point. Soon. Or not – I’d be happy with knowing it would GO AWAY EVENTUALLY.

May 6, 2010

Been dreading tomorrow. I’ve got an appointment around 10ish, I think, to see a doctor I’ve never met before. I am going in to talk about – you guessed it – my pelvic girdle pain. The pain seems to be getting worse and worse. I was just holding Coconut and when I put weight on my right foot, the back right joint screamed out and I almost dropped her. I have felt several times today like I can’t cope with it anymore.

I need pain management alongside treatment. I had some codeine this morning – but while it barely touches the pain, it does make me feel a bit foggy. I didn’t take any in the afternoon because afternoons already make me quite foggy!

Tomorrow feels like some sort of exam. No matter how helpful (or not) the appointment/doctor is, at least it will be over. There were then be a waiting game for other referrals to go through, and then the fun fun FUN time of trying to arrange and rearrange appointments to somewhat fit TMD’s schedule, and her having to take lots of time off to ferry me around.


I don’t know what I need, aside from this to go away and function to return to my body. My body almost feels a bit outside of me now, some ‘other’ who is not under my control. Because if sheer will alone could have caused all this agony – physical and emotional – to go away, it would have. I’m almost 9 months postpartum, and I had this for about 7 months of my pregnancy.

Enough is e-fucking-nuff, you know?

And like pain in the SI joint isn’t bad enough, it has returned in the symphasis pubis joint. I am feeling more and more…disconnected.

The next few years will be full of this debate.

February 2, 2010

Coming here in a bit of a fuddle this evening. Bouncing back and forth – am I selfish? Totally justified? Why the fuck is my ‘family’ so fucked up?

Long and short, my father did not bring gifts for the babies when we met with him over Christmas. He promised to send some. Here it is, the first of February, and not even a couple of cards for Snort and Coconut on this, their first Christmas.

My father’s mother also gave him money for me and TMD – no mention of the babies. Surprise, surprise, we have not seen the money. Now, I don’t really care about a small sum of money that much, but it’s the fucking principle of the thing. My aunt apparently saw a card when she was at my ‘grandmother’s’ house, from my father. He thanked her for the money for us and said he would use it to take us out for a meal.

So the one hour meal he spent with us? We apparently paid for it. (He refused to take a full day off work to spend with the babies, and his partner didn’t even come for the lunch.)

There was also no mention of the fact that my grandfather had two great-grandchildren in the obituary. My father never even called or emailed to tell me that he had died. He still has not gotten in touch.

This shit pisses me off, brings up every situation that has passed like this – a long line of disappointments and doubt.

I was used to the idea of never expecting anything from my father. In my early twenties, I can recall exactly one time that my father brought me anything but misery, guilt, and anger. Since that point, no. My teen years? Don’t make me fucking laugh.

My childhood? Oh, what a jumble. What a fucking borderline personality dreamscape – full of absolute terror one minute, laughter and relief the next.

It’s not about me anymore. It is about my children. Do I want to have to explain to them when they are older why their birthday(s) will always be forgotten? Do I want them to understand, far too early, that some people are not to be trusted – and these are people who claim to love you? People who have their blood running through your veins?

This year Coconut and Snort are too small to understand who the jolly, fumbling, disconnected fat man who briefly cuddled them is. Next year they will be too small. But time has a way of passing, and history has a way of repeating itself when people do not want to open their hearts. Is this what I want for my children?

I have not had a moment of pure joy with my father since I was very, very young. What is there for my children?

I feel like a heel. The man’s father has died, my father has never been capable of a normal human relationship – why do I expect change now, etc etc. I do not wish to bring pain into anyone’s life. I kind of thought, ‘Oh, what’s the harm. They’ll see him once every few years, he’ll be a kindly stranger, they’ll have fun on his boat.’

The proof of harm comes here, in the form of a 31 year old non-daughter, who still feels such burning pain and hatred and confusion. I want to stand between our children and this man, this selfish little boy, and bear all the hurt for them. But can I grin and bear it, not be true to my children or myself, spend the rest of his life making his excuses for him?

There is no point in reasoning with my father. There is also no point in confrontation, even when I know I can use my gift with written words to wound, slash, blame. I have done it before. He cannot hear. He is false promises and lies, he is self-centred and genuinely innocent (in his mind) of these actions that hurt others. He twists me up in knots, and I feel hate in the middle of my chest. It’s hot.

This is not something I want to feel. This is not something I want my children to feel.

(three) Jason

October 22, 2008

I loved you so deep I found myself, and lost myself. Burned into my memory, my love of fourteen years ago. I remember the feel of your hair. The curls.