I get out of bed pretty early after another disappointing night’s sleep. I’m going crazy! And my muscles hurt, just from going on a walk! I talk to a friend and feel better. “Honey,” she says, “I sympathize with your wanting to be a bad-ass, but, um, it’s just Vicodin. I’m not saying it’s nothing, but it’s basically Tylenol. Take it as prescribed.” I decide I will go back on my pain meds. At least at night. The pain is completely manageable, but it's just always there. Even though I go through all the reasons why I should feel grateful--so many!--I still can't shake my little black dog. But, I also know these little dips are to be expected, and tomorrow will be a better day. And someday I will hike and run and take long walks and run up and down the stairs in my house like it's nothing. And maybe go to Vegas!
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