In other news, I had a hilarious patient at clinic today. He was upset about the, erm, side effects of his Cymbalta. Specifically that his "little soldier don't salute no more, if you know what I mean." When he blurted out that gem, I absolutely DIED. It was relatively unprofessional. Sorry. I don't handle penis references well.
Regarding other stuff, I am okay. Not good, just okay. More okay than I was earlier this week, but definitely not as happy as I've been for the past several months. And that is kind of tough to swallow. Happiness rocks, you know? And I was finally there after being so miserable for so long. I'm not miserable right now, not really, but I'm not happy either. I'm antsy and anxious and scared. I am back to white-knuckling it: refusing to let myself get bogged down in what if's, working long days to avoid too much alone time, and telling myself five thousand times a day that it will be okay, this isn't forever, you've gotten better before and you can get better again.
The nerve pain is still bothering me, although it has definitely eased off a tad. And it's still nothing like where it used to be, which is good. Dr. P helped a lot when I saw her on Wednesday by assuring me that she believes this is temporary, that I've just aggravated things with the overexercise, and that there will likely be a time in my life when this is all over. She used the metaphor of an old leg injury I have from years ago. It started bugging me back when I was a wee thing running cross country in high school, and it took several months of cross training and physical therapy to heal. But even to this day, if I overdo it or forget to stretch, that damn leg still bothers me. So maybe the pelvic pain will be something like that: something that needs to be managed and may flare from time to time, but will be largely absent from my daily experience. I really needed to hear that and really needed to believe it.
Because sometimes I just need some optimism, you know? I'm not the best at staying positive myself, especially about this, and sometimes I just really need someone else to channel some positivity on my behalf. My mom really sucks at this, which is unfortunate because she's usually the first one I call when I'm in a panic about it. Her response is usually sometime like "Oh no, I hope it isn't starting up again." Not. Helpful.
So, I'm hanging in there. Happy Friday, everyone.