A bunch of miscellaneous

Tonight the power went out.  I hate it when that happens.  It makes me feel lost and isolated.  And then I start a self-examining process on how reliant I've become on technology and devices and the internet.  Self examination.  Not a good thing when you are in pain.

I am in pain because that fall I wrote about a few posts ago turns out to be a little more than just some road rage.  For instance:

And my back and should and jeez, what else? are all messed up from that.  I may fall a lot, but that wasn't the typical fall I could just write off and move on.  And the migraines don't seem to go away.  They are better in that I don't wake up with them and I am getting way more time during the day to be productive, but I am still getting stuck with at least one a day that knocks me out for hours and hours at a time.

Then there is the issue of where I live.  At first I loved my apartment because I turned it into my home and I loved living alone again and I just loved having all this independence.  But it has been hypothesized, and it makes perfect sense given how sick I've been since I moved in, that my apartment is making me sick.  I may have mold.

But there is a chance I may be able to move into a new place and I am hoping something works out for me to not live here any more.

And now something really amazing that knocked my socks off in how important it was and how small and simple.  The other day I was at coffee at my gram's and my aunt's were there.  One of my aunts suffers from a condition that leaves her dealing with horrible, chronic pain.  Her doctor recommend she go on the Duragesic patch.  And so we talked about that.  We talked about the upside, no highs and lows.  We talked about the downside - how is tears your skin up so abominably.  Then she said something that I could relate with so perfectly, she said with the patch you wouldn't be lying in bed, teeth chattering, waiting for your pain killer to kick in.  Just having someone get it was so amazing I almost cried.

Last thought, but not least thought, I now have three people reviewing my book, and I have say I am most nervous about my mom reading it.  If they made a movie out of it, rated R.  And while I know I am my own worst critic, I worry it isn't as good as some people have told me.  Every character I wrote is some form of myself.  This entire book came from a dream, a gift from my  muses.  And so I torture myself, as all writers do in pure neurotic fashion, is it good enough? am I good enough?

Wait one more thing.  I'm worried for my dog.  I know I'll need to buy more medicine for myself after my doc appt for the out of control migraines on Wednesday, but I think I need to get her some medicine as well.  And I just don't have all this in my budget.  I really could use an infusion of cash about now.  Anybody want to buy a novel? :)