I woke up this morning with the pain in my neck so bad it felt like an ice pick was jabbed into the back of my skull. The idea of living with this kind of thing is a horrible prospect, especially since I have no relief and no way to see a doctor get the pain meds I need. No insurance means no meds, no doctor, no relief. Anyone that doesn't get why a universal health care system really needs to spend a week feeling as bad as I do without any meds to dull the sharp agony I am forced to endure. No one would argue after that. The idea of pain without reprieve would be enough to inspire them to find a solution. My saving grace, the thing that keeps me from opening a vein or going to sleep without ever waking up is the stack of printed out drawings I have to work on. The idea of putting color to Will's pencils, of having a book with our name on it, really is what keeps me going. I can't bail out, even if I want to cry every day because of the pain I'm in. Someone's got to color his work, right?
I'm going to go to a pen store with Anita today. Art seems to be my salvation right now, so I'm focusing on that. Maybe, in about two or three months, I'll be able to get help so I can have meds. Until then, it's a daily struggle to remember to breathe, to remember to hope. Drawing or painting seems to help me remember that, so I have to keep focusing on that.
I know this post is kind of depressing, but waking up in this much pain, and knowing that there is nothing I can do to make it more bearable, is a really hard pill to swallow. I'll try to cheer up next time.
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