It is 3:37am and I am overthinking pain and I am sitting in my sewing room and writing here, hoping it will dissipate and I can go back to sleep. It is my niece’s 15th birthday tomorrow and I am hoping to go to her celebratory breakfast. On the table beside me is a pill bottle with Oxycodone in it, the pill that works but that I don’t like; I feel it makes me edgy and nervous, and I am already edgy and nervous now.

I found something on the internet last night that said to write when one is overthinking. I find it helps, if only to track the racing thoughts and feelings of pain so that I can reflect on them later. This pain is wild: it starts in my back just below my shoulder blades and goes down near my kidneys then wraps around to the soft parts of my belly, which are swollen. I don’t think I am digesting food well: it feels stuck. I miss enjoying eating and drinking things, and I miss not being in pain every moment of every day. My legs and feet are so swollen with edema, and the swelling stretches all the way into my mid-belly now, misshaping my hips and my tummy and making me feel like I am sloshing around with extra water, 17 pounds of it at the last check. It all feels insane. How has this happened and why is it happening?

It is impossible to feel comfortable almost anywhere. It feels like my body is rebelling against me and I don’t know what it is trying to tell me except that many of its systems are angry, riled up, inflamed, shrieking! I had to leave work earlier today because my legs were so swollen and my back was hurting so much that I couldn’t concentrate and I was worried about being able to drive safely in my mental state. I hustled out the door in tears, apologizing for something that I cannot explain.

I just took one Oxycodone 5mg: I guess we are getting a play-by-play this morning. I keep wondering what this experience is supposed to teach me. I am so confused and clouded by the symptoms of pain and physical discomfort, that the only thing I can pay attention to is how much my friends love me and communicate with me and wish to help. It is so wonderful: I feel like I am in this pink cloud of love, made of all these people who love me and want me to feel better. I can’t believe there was ever a time when I worried about being alone. I have been reflecting on my post from last week when I wrote about my experience in the hospital when I was in high school. Something in my body knew something was up: I was in the ER the next day and now upon this journey which appears to be just beginning.

I worry about how I am going to pay for things now that I am not working very much. Do I call the credit card company and tell them what is happening and ask them to pause for me for a month? What about the student loan company? It seems worth a try as there is no way around how this feels: debilitating. I wish pain pills helped instantaneously and I wish they didn’t mess up my stomach. I can’t figure out if all of these medicines are helping at all. They must be? It is so confusing.

One of the other things I am able to focus on reflecting upon is how many things about health that I took for granted: walking long distances at a fast pace, munching on delicious food that made me feel good inside, sleeping through the night now that I have an Estrogen patch, and drinking a glass of rose with friends on a beautiful afternoon. All of those things are on pause. My work is on pause, and by that I mean my creative work, as I can’t focus on it and have no follow through and not much strength to do anything. It feels scary, it feels lonely, and I cannot get comfortable. My sweet husband has been doing everything, and I feel bad about that, too.

My doctor tells me I have to let go of all of those feelings and be willing to accept help. I am, I think. I mostly feel guilty about Cody having to do everything. But so far, at least to me, he is willing and not too exhausted. Right now, as I sit here typing, I am moving my body back and forth in the chair in a vain attempt to alleviate pain, to stretch something that is taught, to do anything to help. No luck.

Dear Universe, please help me move beyond this pain state, and may the surgery being done Friday be safe and go well and remove some samples that can help us understand what is going on so that my body can heal itself. This is hard, y’all. Love.