Chronic

She related each day to what she thought having a baby must be like -- a never-ending nightmare. Waking up on her uncomfortable cot was always done at the provocation of the ceaseless pain in her shoulder.

Five years ago, five fucking years ago, she had worked at a warehouse. Dirty, filled with ants and angry, bitter people, but it paid and she had aspirations for college. One fine day, ten people had called out on the line. Ten people out of fifteen. So, off her fat ass went working most of the positions simultaneously to try and get out the holiday gorefest that sailed constantly down the line.

Her reward? A strained trapezius muscle. No worries, some muscle relaxers, a wrist brace and she'd be good to  go.

Five years later, she wasn't good to go.

The injury had eased at first, but over the years had turned into a burning lump of incessant inflammation in her right shoulder, neck and wrist.

Any attempts to have it seen to were met with the same response. "Your insurance won't cover a specialty doctor. Get a referral." Referral achieved. "Nope, not in your network."

American health insurance, ladies and gents.

Now, as she slogged around the house, the burning accompanied her like a whining child. Five years old and it never shut the Hell up.

She wrapped the decrepit brace around her right wrist and fastened it as tight as she could. Her hand might be swollen and purple by lunch, but fuck it. Four Aleve pills later and she was as ready as possible.

Work, agony. Lunch, agony. Being told that the only orthopedist in her network was still waiting to be approved, AGONY.

Her misery apparently only wanted her company. It was in her neck as she went home, throbbing an demanding attention.

"Alright," she murmured when she got home. The house was a mess. Cleaning was practically asking the impossible.

A step into the kitchen looked like it was on the way to an A&E show. It brought tears to her eyes, just remembering the days before the pain, before the accompanying depression and suicidal thoughts.

There was one clean knife.

It wouldn't be for very long.

******

This is a story based on my own experiences. While I have gotten a lot better, I am typing this with a wrist brace on and the pain in my neck. Point is, chronic pain is a nightmare child that never stops biting your nipple.