Being a pain

I’ve been in pain all day!  When I woke up this morning, I’d already had vague awareness of being in pain for six hours or so.  The last four or five days have been the same.  It’s easier to not notice the pain when I’m awake and doing things, but it’s still there underneath.  It’s like constant noise… you might ignore it and think you’re doing fine, but by the end of the day you’re snapping at everyone, your teeth are clenched and you’re going insane. 

And then I look back six years or so, when I had shorter bouts of severe pain, and think how little this is, really.  Still, constant low-level pain really wears you out.  You go nuts from it. 

Sometimes I’m a bitch when I’m in pain.  It’s usually my mother that cops the brunt of it.  I hope she realises that it’s just the pain talking, but I’m not sure she does.  Of course, it’s not just the pain talking, is it?  The reason she cops the worst of it is because she’s the most annoying one.  The pain just amplifies my annoyance and depletes my tolerance. 

The other night I caved and took a panadol before bed.  Why?  Because my teeth were so sore I could barely eat, and I was worried I’d chip my teeth again by clenching them in my sleep.  Doesn’t the body seem stupid sometimes?  I’m in pain, so I clench my teeth in my sleep until my teeth hurt too!  How does that help? 

You know what?  I can’t stand to read any more of my whining.  I’m tempted to delete this whole entry.  Haven’t I got anything more worthwhile to write about than pain?