Feb. 9th 2014
Sometimes my life doesn’t feel real to me. I feel myself in my body but it’s not really my body: I am just observing someone else’s life. It’s almost been three months since my surgery but it feels like such a faint and distant memory that it might as well have been something I read in a book. My body aches, my movement is awkward and limited; how is this really my life? How did I get to this point? I might as well be elderly. I can’t go out for more than an hour or so at a time. Everything hurts; my knees have been killing me so I can’t go up stairs well. I spend about half the day in bed when I am at home and end up in so much pain after work all I can do is lay in bed and cry. The only way I can sleep is by taping an ice pack to my foot to numb the pain. When it melts I wake up from the pain and tape another ice pack to my foot.
Did I really need to do this? What would have happened if I didn’t get the surgery? I feel like I made the wrong choice but it doesn’t matter. Either way I end up with two options: be in pain or be on drugs; be miserable or kill my liver. Ignoring the pain isn’t the best option, that will just make my body degrade faster. I sometimes wish I could just stop working and go on disability. I know I could qualify but then I wouldn’t be able to pay my bills and it would take years for me to even get approved.
There is an odd myth in this country that people strive to go on disability, that people make up fake claims just so they can stay home and collect money from the government. Sure there will always be people who are going to be dishonest but the reality is most people on disability are constantly struggling. I don’t want to end up like my neighbor complaining every day to random strangers how I can’t afford food. That’s not the life I want. I’ll fight till it kills me because everyone has to die somehow and what other options do I have?