It’s amazing how much of my time goes into managing symptoms or simply whiling away the time unable to really do anything until life gets a little better. I flick on the TV but severe pain wreaks havoc on concentration and memory and I can’t escape it. Books are heavy and hurt. Audio books are murloc chatter when I’m too tired to concentrate. I contemplate moving, going out, but it’s one those times where the glue that holds the pieces together have melted and I think it wise not to do much of anything until it solidifies again just a little bit. I play WoW half-heartedly and very meticulously and as I watch my wrist and fingers partially or completely dislocate every few seconds I wonder if I should stop. But then I think:
Vladimir: That passed the time.
Estragon: It would have passed in any case.
Vladimir: Yes, but not so rapidly.
Most of the time, I try to just put one foot in front of the other, metaphorically speaking, and not dwell too much on what goes wrong and what that really means. I do what I can when I can as best I can. But occassionally, I loose my step, the drummer stops beating and in the deafening silence I feel like I’m Waiting for Godot too.