It's just... I don't know. Look, I didn't need an actual physical condition for me to question the perfectability of Man, God, but dammit.ere's the deal.
Here's the deal.
In some prior posts, I had hope. I had hope that the pain would ebb. Maybe go away until entire decrepitude.
To be sure, total decrepitude can happen in one's 40s, but that's not terribly common now.
Here's how the pain has been this past week: on Wednesday morning, something in my neck popped. I have been feeling it in my face ever since. I had a massage, and I felt better for a few hours, but it came back. I'm going to the chiropractor on Monday, and it will probably relieve some stuff... but I know it doesn't last.
Before that =pop= I had gotten a shitload of writing done. But I keep running into these roadblocks. I noticed some practices I've picked up -- one-finger moves on the computer, or even driving, that pushes me through the current item and it's pushed off til when I hope I am not in so much pain.
And that's as far as I can get right now. The more I talk, the worst it gets. Typing isn't necessarily bad, but I've gotten to the point where I need to stop.