Tried to stay positive today but had a hard time. A long-time fear which has simmered on the back burner for some time, is now moving toward the front burner. I was thinking about what it might mean…this situation…I intend to do wholeheartedly, start to finish, the steps outlined in the book by Dr. Daulton, when I have all the “ingredients” in place, but if the methods don’t ultimately heal me, then what? I had this sort of sick feeling every time I thought about surgery. I don’t know if it’s just my inherent fear of surgery, in and of itself, or if it’s an intuitive warning. I just cannot see how it would be a good decision because what I would deal with after that (and before/during) would more than likely cause even more problems and deny me any quality of life; whereas with the more natural approach, I at least have a chance at regaining some pain-free mobility, even if it takes longer than normal. Maybe it will even take 6 months. A year. I would still do it, because in the long run it’s better for me. And all this will likely push the move to farther in the future, which makes it doubly frustrating since everything I’ve tried to do to make the relocation happen has failed.

But the deeper issue is about pain and immobility. If I am in moderate to severe to unbearable pain all the time during this process, then this is obviously a huge obstacle. Though it would seem I can still write and do my computer-oriented tasks, and lie down whenever I need to…I would not be able to write at my desk, or shop, or clean the litter boxes, etc., because these things make the pain worse, and pain medication might help, but it renders me incapable of driving or even functioning well; to say nothing of the specter of becoming dependent on it, and it endangering my organs eventually. How long would I be able to hold out if I continued to have severe pain? How long before I would just want the pain to end– Once and for all?

When I think of how dismal my immediate and near future might be, I am then flung into despair, and more fear, and stress. I have so many things I want to do, see, experience; so many more books to write, art to create, music to record, friends to make and ultimately, dating and partnership. All the things that make my life worth living. How long before that pain and suffering leads me to desperate acts? How long before I am begging to make a deal with the devil? Unfortunately, I don’t believe in the devil, so once again, it’s an option that does not exist.

I suppose it makes little sense to be afraid of death. Death is the Grand Oblivion. To reach it means to reach perfect nothingness. What I am really afraid of is suffering. And, perhaps oddly, I’m also profoundly afraid that my life will be cut short or damaged to the point where I will not get to have those things I have sought for so long; ego aside, it would be tragic for me to be prevented from reaching my goals. I have so much to give. My creative endeavors are the closest thing to a purpose I have. What about all those unfinished manuscripts, unwritten songs or recordings, unpainted pictures, unmolded sculptures? What about all the valuable lessons I have learned, the wisdom I have accumulated? What good does it do anyone else, if it isn’t ever shared? So death or incapacitation seems more fairly visited upon those who contribute nothing, or those who contribute evil in any of its forms. But this would imply that Life is fair. And most adults understand that fairness is not something Life offers us. I am far more rooted in the NOW than ever before, since releasing my hold on religion and belief in any gods. This makes my life even more precious. I don’t have that false reassurance that I will either be rewarded or offered a better life next time. This life is all I have.

My spirits got a much needed boost by–of all things–going shopping. Bought mini trampoline and therapy ball for the Daulton program, and groceries, *ibuprofen,* *shiatsu neck Massager,* etc. But the boost came when I realized throughout my shopping, that the usual nerve pain didn’t appear. In fact, there was little difference between how I felt when I went in and how I felt when I came out. Even carried in all the perishables, and put them away and STILL didn’t feel worse. This is encouraging. Since I know the nerve pain comes from impingement, I am a little excited that maybe the impingement has either worked away from the prolapse, or the prolapse has shrunk a bit.