Hey, check it out, I'm here, not dead...
A number of people have expressed concern about my absence of late. This makes me happy. I love to know that there are people out there thinking of me and wanting to make sure I'm okay. Seriously, you guys mean the world to me.
I have so many good things in my life. I really do. So...you'd think that I'd be able to handle the things life throws at me, because overall, things are great. But, you know me: Anxiety Girl!
Work has been pretty crazy lately. Business has been GREAT. We had a record month at the lab in April, and almost half of our total sales were ME. Seriously, just me. It's been tiring, but it's been very rewarding, as well. It makes me feel like Invincible Superchemist again. Many of my coworkers have expressed appreciation for my hard work and for my taking initiative and GETTIN SHIT DONE. I always try to spoil my clients with extremely quick turnaround times, and they appreciate that, too, so when we have any sort of issue they're totally fine cutting me some slack. We really need that lately, because we've had to shut the lab down for some repairs and I'm way behind.
My hours have been long, and my feet hurt, and when I get home after working ten or twelve hours (yes, you read that right) I'm so tired that it's all I can do to stay awake until a decent bedtime. I know that so many people work longer, harder hours than I do, and I respect that, but dude. I'm nuts. I have a lower tolerance for exhaustion than most people. This is making life a bit difficult.
Whine, whine, whine. I just had to get that out of my system.
On to the next depressing topic.
Scott got a third epidural injection in March...or maybe early April...who knows. Regardless of when it was, it didn't work (again), so we got a referral to a neurosurgeon. The doctor we'd been seeing had made it very clear that surgery was the next (and final) option. We made the appointment with the neurosurgeon (6 weeks out...) and waited, only to go in today and have the surgeon's PA tell us that there was nothing surgically that they could do for us, and that we had no options except medication because Scott has...get this...arthritis. Um. No, I don't think so. We're going to get a second opinion.
Here's the thing. Lorotab no longer does anything for Scott. He has had to move on to stronger narcotics. He fights as long as he can not to take them, but there always comes a point where the pain is unbearable and he can't focus at work, and have you ever tried writing code while your back is spasming and giving you excruciating pain? He just has to take the narcotics. There isn't a choice.
We were hoping to get him in to surgery, have those discs shaved, and then start the healing and recovery process. We wanted to make a real step toward getting him functional again, and now I feel like we have nowhere to go.
I started crying during the appointment when the PA said there was nothing they could do, and it took every ounce of self-control not to totally lose it. Scott got me out to my car, and then I let myself sob. I cried and cried, so hard, because my sweetheart, my favorite person in the entire world, for whom I would give my life, is hurting so badly and can't be helped. And then I had to go back to work and act like my world hadn't been turned upside-down.
If it were me, I could handle the pain. But I have to sit here, helpless, and watch Scott lose his ability to move around, function off of pain medication, and enjoy simple things like walking the dog (not to mention things he really enjoys, like skiing and paintballing).
You guys, I don't know if I can handle this one. I really don't. My baby is hurting and I can't fix it.