My cysts are home for their monthly visit. I was holding on to hope that they were at least sufferable. But they are beyond tolerating. Way beyond. The shooting pain is horrible. Lortabs are the only things that are touching it…and even then I still feel it.
When I miss work I go crazy. I have to work. My house needs the money. Plus when I’m home I think I have to be cleaning it. That is what I do.
Then all these little voices invade me. I can hear my grandma telling me to be tough and make it through. I can hear my adopted mom telling me that I’m faking it. I can hear disappointment in my husbands voice because I can hardly stand…let alone go to work.
I grew up in a places where ones worth was measured by the work that was done and how well it was done. When I can’t even move to take a shower my worth flat lines.