At what point do I just throw up my hands and scream?
This isn't meant to be a rant-ish post, but it's feeling like one.
Gimpy arrived three...count that... THREE weeks ago. Three weeks of Motrin, headaches, of hot packs and trying not to move, of sleepless nights and can't-get-comfortable no matter what. Despite x-rays and waiting patiently, my neck/back is no better.
It hurts to type, or to sit. Which doesn't help when I'm taking an online typing class. Or when I want to blog.
Driving hurts too. So does moving. Which doesn't help when I have to work.
Hurts to lay down, too. Sex? Of any kind? HA! Excuse me while I laugh hysterically. Not just from the pain part, but poor Hubs looks at me wrong and I growl, the poor guy. We try to watch tv and there I lay on the couch, flat on my back, cursing at the ceiling. I can't get comfortable. My joints creak and crack while I wince, feeling very much like I'm 80+ instead of in my 30s. Every once in awhile something cracks so loud that both Hubs and Jake look at me with concern and I yelp in pain.
Just to add insult to injury, one can't get into the doctor in a timely manner anymore here, unless you are dying. My next doctor visit?
Next FRIDAY. It's the soonest I could book, two weeks ago.
I'm not sure I can stand it that long, but what choice do I have?
One week to go.
That is, if my poor family doesn't tire of my bitching and do me in first.