Stupid sick.

It’s stupid. There’s nothing about being sick that isn’t ridiculous or stupid.
I get struck out of nowhere with a condition abnormal for someone in my age and fitness, and the doctor’s can find any cause. And it can’t just be a run of the mill thing. It’s got to be something that could of knocked me dead if not for … nothing in particular. A little blood clot gets stuck… somewhere. No rhyme or reason.
The doctors treat me, and yes the pain is goes away and they give me drugs to keep it that way. Drugs which affect me more strongly than my doctor has ever seen in anyone else. To the point where for three-plus weeks, I can’t stand, walk, carry, or roll over without being in extreme pain. This is all caused by the drugs meant to save my life.
(Incidentally, what moron at the drug store puts the heating pads on the bottom shelf where you have to bend to reach them? Took me 5 minutes to work up the energy and will to grab one, after giving up on a store clerk coming by.)
When my back does mostly stop hurting, it takes another week or two before I can even walk strait, because the rest of my body is recovering from the stress it was under. There’s a 104 year old woman living in my building who could have beat me in any race.
I have to pay for these drugs. And probably much much more, since Medicaid refused to help me with the hospital bills, for reasons only a lifetime bureaucrat could comprehend. So I will spend the next few years mailing the hospital some obscenely large checks. Checks which will make it unlikely that I can afford to get insurance. The lack of which is kind of what got me here in the first place.
And while I loath the thought of taking these drugs through next spring, the thought that’s already gnawing at me is “what happens after I stop the drugs?” No one knows what caused this last time.
I’m not depressed or in shock or whatnot. These aren’t even the worst thoughts I’ve had. But I’ve been trying for a while now to put them into written words. So yeah… now that’s done.