The big day is almost upon us: I am excited about the prospect of less pain… but more than slightly terrified of the initial pain of the injections and the fact that it all may not work at all and then “merrily” back to the drawing board we all go. Not a fine prospect, but a very real thing that may have to be faced. The way I look at it all, when I’m feeling happy-ish, is that I’ve made it this far so a bit further with this pain probably won’t kill me.
Obviously, there are far more pessimistic views that I could, and often do, take. Par example, the pain brings me down so far in myself that my grip on reality loosens irreparably, the pain continues to get worse and I end up in a wheelchair and without options for recovery, or that I end up losing Michael and Henry either through the previous reasons or just that I am holding them back from life with this condition and as they deserve better they move on.
See what an utter travesty this would fizzle into if I let my more depressive side break free and take control of the keyboard?
I have to imagine bards bidding me, “Good luck, fair Elizabeth, may the National Health not inflame thee, cause undue pain or bring forth an allergic reaction from thee.” …and why not, it could happen?
Y’all gotta love them ol’ bards.
