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Woe Is Me
I thought, when I started this blog, that I’d be lamenting more about my black days. Turns out, I don’t feel like writing when I’m having a black day. My thoughts are too grim to share. I don’t want you to know how ugly it gets in here, now that I’ve lured you in with bunnies and pretty flowers.
A year ago I went to the doctor seeking help for depression, back pain and sleep issues. The doctor suggested we address the sleep problem first and prescribed Ambien. For the back pain she recommended certain back strengthening exercises. I listened to my doctor and followed her instructions.
Ambien gave me a pain in my brain. Not an all-over headache, but a headache like a pointy stick stabbed into one very specific spot in my brain. It made me feel sick and it scared me. I quit taking Ambien after a few days. The cure was worse than the problem.
I did the prescribed exercises every morning for about a week before the leg extentions ruined my knee. I had a fluid filled cyst and a torn meniscus. I needed surgery.
I regretted my trip to the doctor. The knee thing really pissed me off. Surgery helped, but the knee will never be as good as it was before I took the doctor’s advice. I can’t run now. I hate running, but that’s not the point. Now, I can’t.
I retired nine months ago. That’s helped a lot. Sleep isn’t an issue, now that I don’t have to get up at four in the morning. I don’t wake up and look at the clock every half hour. I take an over the counter sleep aid that doesn’t stab me in the head. I don’t have a back-ache every day now, but I still have the black days. I don’t know if it’s depression or menopause or crazy shit I inherited from my mother. I just know I’m not going back to the doctor for it.