I hit the hay each night hoping for sleep and a clear mind when I wake up.
So, is it any wonder, after recent rains have brought my old nemesis Arthur Itis to visit? I hate taking medicine because there's always a side effect, but when the pain gets to the point I'm nearly immobile and crotchety to boot, I curse those pills and down a few.
They haven't done their magic yet but the gray matter is still functioning. I think.
As I type this, random thoughts flutter by and once in awhile I catch the essence of one. For instance: How much of our pain is self inflicted?
In my case, if I were more active, I'd have less pain. The worse thing for Arthritis (and many ailments) is being sedentary. And if one is not constantly medicated (the first option for most people IMHO) then you wind up riding the pain roller coaster. Too tired because you're in pain; too much pain so you sit; move around to remain flexible and you start to feel better and overdo it!
Of course, some people love pain! You know the kind. They whine to friends and family; are forever being doctored for their various ailments and have convinced themselves they need assistance for their plight. And run for cover when their short fuse is lit!
How dare someone suggest they need an attitude adjustment by way of weaning themselves off their drug of choice!
I witnessed this while waiting at the post office, of all places. In shuffles an obese woman whose cane seldom hit the floor - being draped over her wrist like it was.
Five people were in line in an 8'x14' waiting area with a counter in the middle for customer use. First, she announces she can't bear to wait in line. A kind Southern gentleman steps forward (3rd person in line) and says she can take his spot.
He walks to the end of the line while she bumps into everyone and everything to the third spot. And then drops her cane! And whines again. Seems the two people in front of her knew her. Poor souls. Or wise souls as it turned out.
"Well Sissy, I see you're walking around now," says one woman.
"Hmph! Not like I have a choice," Sissy spouts as she begins her litany of grievances with a family member.
While the rest of us glance at one another with knowing eyes, Sissy has the floor and becomes more animated - and flexible - as her plight is explained.
By the time she left the rest of us in line were shaking our heads. A little small talk ensued and wouldn't your know it, we all had ailments and pain. Arthritis, MS, Parkinsons, a prosthetic leg, a steel pin and Shingles!
Like I told the postal clerk, Drama must be her middle name and #1 Poor Me Street her address.