Ache

I limp to the window and watch as my oldest and youngest set out walking the dogs.  My husband has pulled out of the garage in order to go to "fake work".  He's been out of real work now for 9 months.  He goes to an office in a neighboring town, where he and his former coworkers try to find jobs.   Metal prices are down, you know.  Things might pick up soon.  In the meantime, he uses his time to look for work.  With tens of thousands of unemployed geologists out there, the competition is stiff, even for the best.

I hurt.  The student doctor at the free clinic said it was a torn meniscus.  The best they could do was suggest time and a stronger anti-inflammatory that eats my stomach.  These things normally heal and in a few weeks it should have been well on its way.  I know from the constant pain, the catching, the painful joint popping that wake me up at night, it is not right.  I know enough to know that this is not the simple small tear.

I hurt. The arthritis, discovered three years ago, in the other knee and in the lower back has gotten so bad that I can't help but cry in my sleep.  Its surprisingly excruciating.  Some days, I use crutches simply because the pain cannot be dimmed by the pain relievers I take around the clock.  It is a surprise when I push back the blankets and step out of bed only to realize I cannot actually stand or walk.  Some days, I feel sorry for myself.  A walk.  Just a short walk.  I am not asking to hike the back country, I'm just asking for an evening walk.

I look for work, since the security of a paycheck would keep us in our home, with our car, and feed our children.  I interview, and I answer questions about the knee.  I am not sure if its appropriate for them to ask, but then I am not sure if I'm lying by telling them its temporary.  So I guess we are even.

I ache.