Well, the show opened last night and I hope it was a success. I don't know because I left once everyone was dressed and onstage.
I had been lucky enough to get an "emergency" appointment with my orthopedic doctor about my shoulder Wednesday afternoon. He injected me with cortisone and told me to rest it and stop physical therapy. If this rest and the injection do not greatly improve the instability in the shoulder, I will be sent to a surgeon.
Wednesday night was one of the most painful nights I've had with this shoulder since the original injury. It was absolutely horrible. I could not get comfortable no matter what I did. And I had reached the end of my endurance with the whole thing. I've been struggling with my arms for 17 years now, and it was just more needles and more waiting and more crap.
I want arms that work like everybody elses. I want arms than don't hurt constantly and do what I want them to do. I want to be able to work and do what ever I want when I want to do it. I want, I want, I want...
What I have is not that at all and I had a all out pity party for myself Wednesday night. I cried and cried and cried. I wept for all the lost years of my life when I could have been earning money but instead was trying to fix damaged arms, all the things I want to do that I can't do, all the times pain has made me a crabby bitch, all the normal stuff I'll never have because I am not normal-I am broken.
And I have never, ever been able to say that-or accept that. I have always muscled through it, faked it, done whatever I can so no one ever knows how debilitating my arms really are. But Wednesday night it all crashed in on me and I was a sobbing mess and I couldn't hide it or fake it anymore. I hurt like hell, and my arms don't work and it sucks.
And I'm an artist. Unable to do what I do.
Unable to earn a living at anything, as any repetition causes problems with the arms too.
It's because it's the holidays and money is so tight, and I can't really earn any. That's the problem. If I could earn money somehow I wouldn't feel so useless.
I'm not posting this...
I had been lucky enough to get an "emergency" appointment with my orthopedic doctor about my shoulder Wednesday afternoon. He injected me with cortisone and told me to rest it and stop physical therapy. If this rest and the injection do not greatly improve the instability in the shoulder, I will be sent to a surgeon.
Wednesday night was one of the most painful nights I've had with this shoulder since the original injury. It was absolutely horrible. I could not get comfortable no matter what I did. And I had reached the end of my endurance with the whole thing. I've been struggling with my arms for 17 years now, and it was just more needles and more waiting and more crap.
I want arms that work like everybody elses. I want arms than don't hurt constantly and do what I want them to do. I want to be able to work and do what ever I want when I want to do it. I want, I want, I want...
What I have is not that at all and I had a all out pity party for myself Wednesday night. I cried and cried and cried. I wept for all the lost years of my life when I could have been earning money but instead was trying to fix damaged arms, all the things I want to do that I can't do, all the times pain has made me a crabby bitch, all the normal stuff I'll never have because I am not normal-I am broken.
And I have never, ever been able to say that-or accept that. I have always muscled through it, faked it, done whatever I can so no one ever knows how debilitating my arms really are. But Wednesday night it all crashed in on me and I was a sobbing mess and I couldn't hide it or fake it anymore. I hurt like hell, and my arms don't work and it sucks.
And I'm an artist. Unable to do what I do.
Unable to earn a living at anything, as any repetition causes problems with the arms too.
It's because it's the holidays and money is so tight, and I can't really earn any. That's the problem. If I could earn money somehow I wouldn't feel so useless.
I'm not posting this...