|I can't deal with this.
||[Jan. 30th, 2007|07:07 pm]
Pain in the Neck
Went to the doctor today. Cannot deal.|
She said -- I asked -- that in her experience, in a young female with this type/volume of pain, from that type of initial injury, I would not "get better." Ever. She used words like "manage" and "adjust" and "function." This is how it is. My fears are confirmed. I really am not going to ever wake up again and feel normal, let alone good. On my way home there was a moment when I eyed a bridge stanchion speculatively, but being a quadriplegic is rather worse, you know?
Then I got home and Chris is impossible. In a nutshell, his response is "Gosh, that's too bad, you should adjust your expectations." Right. Instantly adjust my expectations so that BEING IN PAIN EVERY SINGLE GODDAMN MINUTE OF THE REST OF MY LIFE IS JUST PEACHY. I wanted, with most of my being, to scream "Easy for you to say!" at him, but I didn't. Really, what's the point? I mean, he's right, and the fact that he says it so easily, so painlessly, doesn't make him less right, even if it does make me furious that he can just dismiss the entire thing like that. I don't think I can, though. I mean, how do you experience the sensation of pain as normal? It *exists*. I feel it. It isn't normal. My body keeps insisting it isn't normal. It would be like trying to train your brain and eyes to see dark as light.
There is an organic, free-range chicken in the refrigerator, and heaps of perfect little organic baby vegetables, procured at great expense. They are all meant to go into a roasting pan and to be drizzled with olive oil -- a "good" fat, right? There is not supposed to be any salt included, because that's bad for you. With this healthy dinner, I was meant to drink unadulterated water, because it's good for you. And then later I'm supposed to brush my teeth with the super-duper electric toothbrush, because that's better for me, and go to bed in time to get eight hours of sleep, for my health. So much effort and expense "for my health" and it all feels pretty damn pointless.
I should be making dinner. I should be studying. I should have gone running today. But I don't want to -- no, it's more that I don't care to. Just. Don't. Care. What's the freaking point, again? One does all this stuff basically for a better life. A higher quality life, presumably. Which I am not going to have no matter what. Why should I fucking bother?