Life is hard...

I am sitting here, in the wee hours of the morning, battling violent waves of nausea and weeping my dry tears.  I just got sucker punched by the third episode "The Good Karma Hotel."  I'd be in bed but for the terrible, terrible nausea, just 12 hours after another terrible, terrible bout.  I had been watching "Vera" for a while now, along with the other shows I've been streaming, and finished that.  So, since I am so ill, I thought to distract myself with something else on Acorn.TV.  I had forgotten about starting "The Good Karma Hotel" and thought I would watch one more episode.  Like I said ... sucker punched.

Acorn.TV is a streaming service of British television, which includes shows from England, Scotland, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand—the countries whose shows I've watched thus far.  It is a mere $4.99 a month and, in my opinion, one of the best bargains on the Internet.  It's selection is not large, but it is adding shows on a regular basis.  And it has such good ones.

"The Good Karma Hotel" is set in India and is billed as a cousin of sorts to the bloody awesome movie "The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel."  The first two episodes wander a bit, and let me to think the show would be a light-hearted look at life in India.  Alas, the third episode reminds you just how hard life is.

Weeping.
Aching over the stories.
Angry over my lack of tears.

My heart hurts.  My entire being hurts.  Were it not so rude, I think I would call my dear friend Mary and wake her up just to tell me a story or two, to her hear say my name, and to hope she remembers that I long to hear the Living Word read to me, even though I rarely ask because I feel as if I do not ... deserve to hear it.

The funny thing is—if you appreciate macabre humor—after I posted about wanting to die, I had two suggestions of methods given to me.  Both I had not considered.  One, however, has brought me such relief as to say that there are no words big enough to convey just how relieved I am.  The method suggested will work, as opposed to my past attempts to die.  It will work.

The thing is, I do not exactly how know to go about dying from carbon monoxide and your car.  And I set a boundary for myself:  I will not Google how to die that way until the Pundenal Neuralgia pain is constant.  I will not look or learn or plan.  But I know that I have a how now.

I know that, as a Christian, I shouldn't want to die.  But I also cannot fathom why anyone would want anyone to live with such severe pain.  Both Trigeminal Neuralgia—which I now have bilaterally—and Pudendal Neuralgia are devastatingly brutal.  Trigeminal Neuralgia is often called the Suicide Disease with the worst pain known to man.  Those who have Pudendal Neuralgia will argue they have that title.

I have both.
And Occipital Neuralgia.
And neuropathy
And migraines
And arthritis.

My life is now marked by pain.  I'd add to that list the constant burning and stinging in my eyes from the Restasis, but that's just a side effect, not a disease or illness or condition.  The rest ... well ... as I told Mary I am managing the pain now.  I do have medications that are blunting a significant amount of the pain, save for those severe Pudendal Neuralgia flares.  However, I deal with the muted pain every single day.  Every.  Single.  Day.

I walk in fear.
I sleep in fear.
I exist in fear.

I fear the next severe flare.  I fear the escalation of all the neuralgias and the neuropathy.  I fear the day when the muting falls away.  I fear a life of constant, excruciating pain.  I have gained quite a bit from being in the Facebook support groups, but I have also had an intimate look at those whose diseases have progressed.

Life is hard.
Brutal, even.

I would not be here ... I am absolutely convinced ... without the magnificent drug baclofen and without gabapentin, even though I deeply resent the massive weight gain that drug has caused.  I would not be here without the help with the pain that I am getting from those medications.  And from Celebrex.  Never forget the Celebrex.

But I would not be here, too, without Amos.  I wouldn't.  Who knew a dog could be so loving.  He's learned a new word:  Sweetie Pie.  If I speak that, Amos comes running for he knows that I am in dire need of his companionship, that I am struggling to get through the moment (and minutes and possibly hours) before me.  Some symptom has reared its ugly head and knocked my spirit flat.  I cry out and he comes running.

I am lonely and I am ill.

Life is hard.