fine craftsmanship

When they released me from the hospital, they gave me thirty painkillers. I refused to touch them because I figured no matter how bad the pain was, it would get worse, and if one takes a painkiller before one really needs it, it might not work when one needs it to. I did not touch them for one month (though in Phoenix, by request, R. had one and ended up spilling wine down his white ruffled shirt). Since last night, I've had three.

It's probably no coincidence that this is day three of no prednisone. The pain is fantastic. I am seriously impressed. I mean, good work! How does the Crohn's make itself hurt so much? I don't care about pain, usually, and I have a very high tolerance for it. Usually I am cannier, cleverer, more resourceful than this so-called pain, but what we have here is some fine, fine craftsmanship. I spent an hour this morning sitting in my tub in dumb tears, rocking on my coccyx and waiting for the painkillers to start working. They're wearing off now but I have grading to do. Is this in honor of Crohn's Awareness Month? Oh, I see. See you at work tomorrow! What happens when there are no more painkillers? Do I get a refill? Take one hundred Tylenols? That's what Heath Ledger did, you know, and it worked out rather shittily for him.

There is this black sort of flower on my stomach that is starting to get darker, and the not-cancer in my mouth is beginning to fill with blood. I think I'm in bloom.

April showers bring May flowers!