"This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper." --The Hollow Men, T.S. Eliot
My day is winding down at the same time that most of the rest of the world is waking up and having their first fag along with a cup of java to stave off the shackles of slumber and welcome the fresh morning dew. I figured that I ought to post something a little more substantial for the day since all I've got to go on for today's efforts toward writing includes a grocery list and the captions on the photographs I posted earlier. If today is, in fact, the end of times, I sure wish that I'd done something a little more memorable yesterday instead of coming home from work and soon thereafter falling into bed to read a little of Stephen King's Night Shift (the latest title I'm soon to be crossing off the hundreds deep titles of summer reading fare; I've read several of the stories included in King's first collection, but never read the tome cover-to-cover), waking at half-past eight, and then spending the majority of my first night off cleaning, washing linens, and knocking out what had to be procured from my local Kroger.
The couponing I did tonight was anything other than extreme. I have some direction from my friend Laura, who is always on the look-out for a deal, and tells me that one can, in fact, knock off a huge portion of the total bill by having the clerk scan a stack of clippings; however, most of the coupons I've found are for items that I'm unlikely to ever buy. Why are there no coupons for fresh produce or dairy or some of the pricier items that I have to pick up from either the meat case or the frozen foods areas? Furthermore, why is it that after adding toilet paper, milk, and cheeses to the cart, my total tag suddenly gains a hefty twenty dollar sum? You'd think that the stuff you buy on a regular basis because it's constantly running out would be a whole lot cheaper, but you'd also think that a full tank of gas would cost less than 1/5 of a paycheck from two week's indentured slavery at the B-wood. My total savings after adding my card to the Kroger.com website and spending way too long looking for the specific brands and ounces allotted by the coupons was less than what I was hoping to hold onto for the amount of time and energy on what really boils down to a pointless, mundane scavenger hunt where the prize is that I've only spent ninety dollars instead of one hundred and six.
I suppose I'm in a bit of a foul mood because the old back is really getting on my nerves as the pain doesn't seem to want to stay at bay for any longer than maybe half an hour at the most. Last Friday, I called my doctor to leave a message that I definitely require something stronger and better acting than the Tramadol I've been taking, but it seems that there's nothing outside the narcotic spectrum that the most brilliant and celebrated medical minds in our world can come up with. On Monday, I called with the same message and was told that there was no record of me having called three days before. On Tuesday, I was told that something had been approved and that they were about to call it in once we ended our call. On Tuesday night, I called my pharmacy to find out that they had not received an order from my physician. And on Wednesday morning, I called and sat on the phone for more than twenty minutes before hanging up and deciding to call back shortly. Ten minutes later, a nurse from The Spine Institute called to tell me that the doctor had just approved a medication and she wanted to know what pharmacy I used. Interesting as this information was left with the messages from Friday, Monday, and Tuesday. The final day also being the first time I was told that the same doctor had just approved something that they were on the verge of calling in for me. The rigmarole doesn't inspire much confidence in some people I'm about to let turn me over and cut into my back to repair this whole mess so that phone calls and messages and orders for higher doses of medications will no longer be needed.
My deal with myself for taking a scheduled narcotizing medication has been that, when I take it, I'll lay in bed, read my Big Book or do some private journaling, or do some writing on some topic that I've been discussing with Juli recently, and I've upheld my end of the bargain. Unfortunately, the medication which is supposed to be treating and alleviating this intensifying pain is failing to uphold its promises. I'm frustrated and counting down the days until something is finally going to be done and none of this agitation will ever be required again. Of course, the doctors and his PA's did admit at my last consultation that my expectations may be a bit too high and total alleviation of all pain is likely not an option. I was told that I will, in fact, live with some degree of back pain for the rest of my life; however, they told me that it would be far less intense, much more manageable, and something that would only require me to take some ibuprofen if or when the flare-ups ever occur. I just want it all to be over because this morning, with the sun slowly coming into view deep in the recesses of a vastly overcast, gray sky, I realize why those with chronic pain issues are prone to anxiety and depression. One can only experience the non-ordinary state of being in pain for so long before one really starts to want to just stress and swear on a regular basis. I try not to let it all get me down, but this is ridiculous.
Despite the often times debilitating levels of hurt, I can't help but to hold onto a high level of optimism. Although my belief system falls far outside that of the hoi polloi of Haughton (so to speak, for alliterative purposes only), I do believe in the saying that one is never given any more than he or she can handle, and I know that this, too, shall pass (I hate that damn expression!); however, I can't help thinking that it's true. I have so much to be grateful for otherwise.
What's a little pain in the back, ass cheeks, hips, and legs when I have multiple other facets to my life that make me happy? I have a great relationship with my mom, something that most other guys (and girls) would never even dream of let alone be thankful for. I have an awesome job (with admittedly crap pay) that I love and look forward to clocking in to perform. I have a ton of friends that I can count on and bitch to and lean against, and I know that they don't consider me a drain or too much or too needy. I've been writing and journaling more recently than I have in almost three years. I'm working on three different stories right now, and the ideas and the words are just flowing like an eternal river of life. Despite some issues related to compressed discs in my back, I am in remarkably good health: no diseases, no erratic heart issues, no neuroses, no dependencies, great blood pressure. Most everyone that I know is also in good health. I may be poor, but I really never want for anything, and everything that I ever need is always somehow provided. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel for school and my future. And now, holiest of holy shits, I am becoming better acquainted with a guy who is beautiful and smart and funny and interesting and driven and ambitious and sexy and alluring and pretty much more than I ever would have thought to request had I been given the option to do so. What's more is that he seems to look at me and see equally impressive qualities exuded, stuff that I never see when I look in the mirror, but I'm starting to believe it all the more that I hear it and read it in his text messages and Facebook posts. It reminds me of that old Nat King Cole song, "Nature Boy." Something like, "the greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return." That's a really pleasant and calming thought, isn't it? Simple and straight-forward. I think I lose sight of that sometimes. I'm glad I have sight of it now. And I'm even glad-er to have the opportunity to get to know somebody who's helping me hold sight of it right now.
So, if the world ends today, I guess that's not a bad mood to be in when it all comes to a close: with the acceptance of the knowledge that really and truly, in the end, the only thing that matters is love. According to The Beatles, it's all we need anyway.
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