(I write these posts mostly for myself. After all, this is an online “journal.” I’ll understand if you skip it.)


My nerves were so bad that my heart rate was 125, but my blood pressure was an okayish 138/82. I only gained 3 pounds, which really surprised me. I was almost certain that I had put on at least 15 since June cause chocolate.

I haven’t gotten the blood test results yet, so I have no idea what my A1C is. Last time it was 5.9, which is peachy and wonderful. Fingers crossed.

We discussed trying something called Savella but I would have to stop taking my Effexor to which I said hell no, thank you very much doc.

My right upper arm feels like someone slugged me. Damn flu shot. Worth it, though.

The conversation then turned to my neverending pain, fatigue and muscle spasms.

He upped my muscle relaxer to twice a day with the theory that fewer spasms would equal less pain and overall weakness. The fatigue thing? Not much that I can do about that.

“I feel like a criminal even asking for more narcotics,” I said. (Which is why I wrote it on a post-it note.)

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I feel like a criminal prescribing it,” he replied. “Sadly, people who abuse them makes it more difficult for people like you who honestly need it.”

“I’m not using them to get high,” I said sincerely.

“I know,” he responded kindly.

He gave me a 3 month supply of hydrocodone, three separate prescriptions predated. I no longer have to suffer because I don’t have enough to last until the next time that I see him.

For the first time, I saw the situation from a doctors point of view.

He’s also checking for inflammation in my body, which has always come back negative in the past. But because everything has gotten so much worse recently, there’s no harm in checking into it again.

Yay! I finally found a great doctor who listens to me, gives a shit and takes his time talking with me.

Plus, he believes me. That’s better than any narcotic.

Kind of.