Spine Like A Nik-Nak (#SpiralCord)
So, this past week or so, the pain has been much worse. Most recently, over the last couple of days, my sciatica has decided to kick me in the balls. Metaphorically, obviously because, you know…it can’t kick. Neither can I because of this shit, for that matter.
Of course I knew this inactivity was going to come back and bite me. I figured I’d be achy and weak and pile the weight on. Which I have, but I didn’t expect my back to get me…back (too many backs right?) like this. Today, it has decided to be the worst it’s been in well over a year. I knew I would never be rid of it (thanks to the frequent reminders from activities I undertake to try and feel normal and the pang of Mr S gives me a firm reminder that he’s watching me – ooooh, that sounded kinky didn’t it? Well it isn’t).
For the last week I have been on my PS4 less and less. Sleeping or dozing off more and more during the day and feeling wide awake at night. I mostly come out at night. Mostly. My concentration is all over the place. Similar to what it looks like when Liam Neeson ejaculates.
Today, I started off walking like Penguin in the later episodes of Gotham. As the day progressed I ended up twisting myself more and more so I could (kinda) walk. Hunched over like I’m hunting for rogue pennies on the floor and then twisted like my spine is a Nik-Nak or was formed from fusilli. Also known as (hashtag) Spiralcordulitis. I made that up. Can you tell? I can just imagine the X-Ray.
On top of the abdominal pain, sciatica and my regular clock-watch ’til Cocodamol time my mood is foul. Fouler (I’m making that a word too) than the thought of Susan Boyle flicking her bean on Chat Roulette (no I DO NOT use this site. Just heard about it. Seems synonymous with guys jerking off. If I wanted to see that shit I’d just look in the mirror).
The last 2 doctors I have seen reckon this abdominal pain may be prostatitis. From what I have heard/read about it, it’s a nasty bugger and if it is the chronic side that I suffer from, it’s something that can’t be cured. Just kept at bay until it decides to bugger off for a bit. A friend of mine who saw my Facebook status about my potential and, as yet, unconfirmed diagnosis told me about his joyous ride with it. 11 years. 11 fucking years.
So, how am I feeling? Tickity-fucking-boo.