Today is another day of shite. I think I have yet another micro fracture in my vertebrae (can’t honestly recall how many I’ve had) and the cyst that is the utter bane of my life on l2-3 is being an arsehole. Osteoarthritis at the age of 19. Woo. I can’t even have any more surgery to stabilise anything as it crumbles into dust (or wasn’t there to start with, lovely birth defects). 30 years of sciatica & a consultant who shrugs & says it’s buggered. My sciatic nerve is split & half goes through a muscle it’s not supposed to. Lovely.
So today I’m on the big girl medicine (so probably writing nonsense), brain is confuddled with today’s top whack of pregabalin (it’s not even 5pm yet).
And then last month, in testament to the shocking crap heap that is my wretched carcass (and exactly 1 month from my dad’s death with this on his death certificate), my 6 monthly medication blood test shows I’m diabetic.
No warning, just plop. Dia-bloody-betes.
I’ve just titrated onto the highest dose of metformin yesterday so to be frank, I’m not gambling on any farts. Even with all the opiates I take that slows my IBS (another teen discovery, lovely), the Met plops are just adding to the joys of today.
On the upside, I’ve just lost a stone (possibly mostly through my bumhole) in the past 3 weeks. That, and any oral pleasure has been sucked out of my diet.
I’d cry, but it’ll make me hotter, so bugger that.
And I had my smear test this morning. Bah!