I'm sitting here, waiting for the pain to start. Just waiting for the crippling pain to come, and I really can't do anything else. I've moved some things, made some preparations, because once it comes I won't be able to do anything at all...I can't look for a subbing job even though I desperately need the money, because who knows what condition I'm going to be in this week?
So I have to just sit and wait.
It hasn't started yet, and if it doesn't start tomorrow and it decides to start the 28th I may not be able to make it to my doctor's appointment, but I need to go because I need all of my many prescriptions renewed because my insurance no longer covers them under my old doctor.
I'm also out of the good pain pills my father gave me, and if he's out, too, I'm extraordinarily screwed.
Mick and Debra had their meeting with the child study team at Manny's school so we're all waiting for their call.
So I'm waiting.
Arthur's Christmas present last year was to be a Doctor Who-esque scarf that I never finished, so now that I'm going to see him Saturday and he's been complaining about his scarf-less-ness I'm trying to get it done, so I'm knitting while I'm waiting.
Did I mention I was waiting?
I'm already sore, and the whole deal has been making the fibromyalgia worse since it started, so I'm miserable, sore, knitting and waiting x 2.
Waiting sucks.
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