Tuesday, August 16, 2011
I think I'm dying. There's no other explanation. Yes, I think I've convinced myself that I'm in my final days. I know, you're (see Gucci, I can do it!) thinking dramatic, Diva-like behavior. It's not, I swear!
I've had this pain for a few months now. First it was only when I wore stilettos......I know, I know....5'12" with 4" heels.....get over it. It's a statement after all. Of what I'm not sure, but I tell myself that because I LOVE stilettos.
Ok, I'm off track. Back to the pain. It's continual now and it's in the joint of my right big toe. I've, with my vast medical knowledge, narrowed the possibilities to arthritis, but you have to be old for that right? Gout, another old lady thing and SO NOT Diva-like, or cancer. Yes, I think I have cancer of the big toe.
So first thing tomorrow morning I'm making an appointment with my primary care doc to tell him my diagnosis.
Ouch, it hurts and I DON'T do pain well. I know somewhere in my pharmaceutical arsenal I'll be able to find some vicodin at the very least. If I'm lucky, oxycontin.
Yes people, that is my bedside gun safe. Not only do I keep my Walther .380 and a magazine filled with hollow points inside, I keep it filled with my meds. Now if I can only remember the damn code. I knew I should have gone for the biometric model.