Don't be fooled

There's no biscuits in that tin (and even if there were, I wouldn't be eating them as I am 20lbs overweight according to medics).

Just more medication.
My daily regime consists of 300mg of gabapentin, 30mg of amytriptyline, paracetamol during the day (although it is somewhat pointless) and then either 60/1000 of Cocodamol or a couple of tramadol at night.  Sometimes both.  No ibuprofen, naproxen or other NSAIDS due to other complications.

I have admitted that I am sinking again, into the blackness that was starting to consume me 3 years ago as I headed towards the surgery that I believed would give me my life back.  It didn't, clearly.

I think the sinking is worse now, because my own experiences tell me that this operation may provide some resolution, but with it, further problems and complications could follow in the future.  

It seems sort of pointless, sitting here with pain so bad that it hurts to sit.  It hurts to stand too.  It also hurts to lie down, go to the toilet, walk.  Eating is problematic because I get really bad reflux if I eat more than a child's portion of food in one go.

I can't concentrate.  I can't think like I need to be able to.  I am an intelligent woman.  I used to be able to pull the information I needed out of my head on demand.  I could pose intelligent questions.  I could provide robust arguments.  I used to be able to write with flair and precision.  I could remember facts and figures, challenge incorrect statements and provide the information needed to provide appropriate rebuttal.  I can't even do that.

I cry.  A lot.  Most people don't see that - I usually go and hide and then get myself together before anyone sees.  

I snap.  Over things that really don't warrant the reaction and with people who I care for far more than I care for myself.

I yawn.  Not because I am bored, but because an average night of sleep for me means 7 hours with at least 10 bouts of waking/restlessness.

I feel like I am letting so many people down.  

I am stuck currently.  I can't risk being absent before surgery, because, for a start I won't believe the 25th February is the day until they actually put the anaesthetic in, but also, I don't know how long it will be after the surgery till I am fit again and we certainly can't afford for me not to be paid.

But I look OK when you see me, don't I?  It doesn't fit.  I must be taking the piss right?  

I wish I was.  I really do.