I gave up trying to sleep a few minutes ago. And that is longer after I took the heavy muscle relaxer that usually knocks me out in minutes. After I laid in bed in darkness, counting sheep, willing my mind to drift off.
I can't sleep. So I am writing here to you, my dear diary.
I was about to offer a lot more exposition and background, but to hell with it, I am going to get straight to the point:
I do not want to be sick anymore.
A few minutes ago, I was laying in bed, willing myself to sleep and trying to think up jokes to use in the (now highly likely) case that I will be diagnosed with MS, when I completely broke down in tears.
I am in constant pain. My muscles are always wound tight and stretched. My muscle spasms and seizures are becoming more and more frequent. I have nausea and fatigue all the time.
And chances are high that soon I will look back on this time and consider it "the good years."
And this is just the new stuff. Not to mention the cerebral palsy, the asthma, the severe allergies that hit me constantly some eight months out of the year. This is not to mention that I can become severely depressed for no reason, that I am prone to panic attacks and anxiety.
This body I am confined to was already Hell. Now I have the pleasant thought that it might never get better. That it will most certainly become much worse.
That's a scary fucking thought.
I remember when I was in bible school, how I'd pray constantly for God to remove my allergies. I reminded God that he cares about the sparrows and that my life is nearly unbearable with the sneezing and inability to breath three quarters of the year. I asked God to do this one tiny thing in exchange for a great deal of glory. What are allergies compared to cancer? To creating the entire universe?
Of course God didn't answer. And now, my allergies are the least of my concerns. It's like the man who was complaining about his toothache until his friend shot him in the leg. "Not thinking about your tooth anymore are you?"
I can see God handing me this chronic, degenerative disease and saying, "see, not thinking about your allergies anymore are you?" Thanks, God.
I am just ranting now and so I'll try to wrap things up.
I am frustrated and pissed off and scared senseless.
Maybe someday I'll learn enough to stop asking God for help.
1:29 a.m. - 2012-02-07
Recent entries:
Awake in My Tiny Cage - 2014-11-03
God. - 2014-10-27
I remember me. - 2014-10-17
The Paper - 2014-10-13
A Post About Not Doing Anything - 2014-10-12
My profile
Archives
Notes
Diaryland
Random
RSS
others:
i-lost-sarah
aryssa90
newschick
stardumb
hexes
gonzoprophet
meffinmisfit
cybers1ut
the-grey-one
movingsands
dangerspouse
unowhatilike
silverluna
elusive-you
tobehis
kenny-loo
brothasistas
my-rant
is-life
godsintimate
ruby--sky
creme-egg
darkly-blue
reevo
similar
dooki
dagkyo
obijuan
buddyboy5
u2october
nudeplatypus
mojo1915
baby--girl
cindylou03
alwaysinhim
greenstar7
krunkjazz
dudemanflab
spittingame