Excruciating

Last night, I was squatting, digging something out of my medicine cabinet under the sink. Because I am an enormous clod, I fell backwards onto the cold, hard, tile floor. Right on my fistula, which has been giving me lots of problems lately anyway.

I screamed. A came and sat in the doorway of the bathroom as I tried not to cry and hyperventilate. Eventually, I staggered into the bedroom to lay down. Vicodin, here we come!

Today, it's bleeding. A lot. And, it's so sore that sitting is difficult. I am not sure how I'm going to make it all day in the office tomorrow and then at the store tomorrow night. I have to call Dr. L and get more vicodin.

I hate asking for vicodin. I've gotten lectured by him about it so many times, but I still hate asking. We both know that I'm not an addict, I take it rarely, and it doesn't really have any other effect on me than taking away the pain. But, I still hate asking for it. He always gives me a full month and one refill, and it usually takes more than a year to take it all (including sharing it with needy people and refilling it before it expires).