and then part of me is angry. at my bladder. at my body. at my six-week-old self with a double hernia that needed surgery. at the doctor who sewed me up. at the scar tissue that has formed, making my current situation more complicated and strange.
i'm also angry at my urologist who, for years, told me that i was imagining things. and that what i felt was just a normal feeling. i'm angry at my old doctor who kept prescribing me antibiotics to treat urinary tract infections even though the cultures never grew any bacteria. i'm mad at myself for not being as proactive as i needed to be. for eating too many acidic foods. for having too tense muscles. for letting strees get to me physically.
and i'm upset with god, too. i want to trust that i'll be okay. and that everything happens for a reason. i want to jump for joy that i finally have a name for my pain. a diagnosis for this condition. something to hold on to when i feel like shit and i can't even take a step without cringing. but i'm not jumping for anything. not today. today, i'm swaddled in the most comfortable blanket. and i just need to feel its warmth.
and also, blogger spell check is not working. and i'm bleary eyed, so please give me a break in that department.