Tango with Agony

As I told my friend Teddi. This is Talk to God pain, shout to God pain. What is the lesson? Shoveling out the neighborhood for 12 hours a day for two days, and becoming hypo-manic in the process and then deciding to jog, wrecked my muscles. "You don't notice your bodies signals when you are flying high," my husband reminds me. Now I am having an intimate dance with agony. A tango with agony. The Ibuprofen 800 is working and I hope to be able to walk Lily. I also hope to swim. It's crucial to have routines, they ground me. Laundry, baking bread, making granola, dog walking, Sunday pancakes whatever. The daily weekly rituals are what I must continue even if I am at 1/8 the speed. "I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy," I told my husband. "I don't have any enemies," I laughed. At least the pain is not sinus pain. Pain away from the brain is better than pain in my head.

My dog is getting younger and I am getting older. I can't imagine life without a big dog to support me. They are suicide prevention. Yes, I admit it.

The pain was so severe I was understanding how people get hooked on pain relievers.