The Sick Apple
Not getting any sleep for weeks and years is not helping me.
I keep thinking my chronometer is broken. Like I have a tumor in my clock.
Or a wrench in the pain switch. Something is not moving or working.
Time is strange. I can’t count on it. It makes less sense as my pain has careened out of control.
By 5:45 Sunday morning, I have again been up the whole night.
I would like to start the steroids but I am so queasy and green and sour from pain.
Like a sick apple.
The failed vicodin and other drugs.
Rebound headaches.
Hemicrania continua.
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