Morning, I have some hot coffee, and a feller is pointing out the intricate details of a cheap aluminum stove on youtube right now. I’m entertained, at least.
The last couple of nights have been rat bastards from hell for pain. I want someone to do jumping jacks on my spine with a sledge hammer. Hey, at least I didn’t scream when I woke up this morning eh?
I have a bone to pick, and while the spine is screaming sweet nothings in my ear, I might as well get it off my chest. Here’s a letter for those including Bill W. of AA who say I can’t pray for myself.
FUCK YOU
When the pain is bad enough I wonder if I am going to make it acrossed the house to go to the bathroom, I pray. When I can’t get out of bed because of a spasm, I pray.
When the functionality of another limb goes down, but the Dr’s refuse to even do an xray, I pray (especially to not commit homicide of the imbecile in front of me). When the dog has to go to the back yard, and I can’t reach down low enough to reach his tie out, I pray.
When death looks better than living one more day, because I can’t get relief from the pain because I am a drug addict and alcoholic, I pray sometimes for death to take me.
So yes, I’m a bit defensive of my needs to pray for myself this morning. Meanwhile, I have another dog sweater almost done, and I have to start another. The dogs of the world are cold.
Take care, may God be with you today. -L
AnonymousKnitter 