I mean NO!  What a disaster.  I took the last 200 mg Wednesday the 20th, and it wasn’t until Monday, the 25, that I was back to anywhere near usual pain levels.  I was in seriously debilitating pain for days.  I could barely move, could barely hobble to the bathroom with my cane to hold me up.  It was miserable.  My joints all felt swollen and painful, my hands felt like clown hands, you know fat fingers with no joints, and were very painful throughout.

I was losing my words, losing my place in space, my asthma went from barely there to using my proair two or three times a day and allergy pills every four hours.  It was not a good thing, so thank you again doctors, and stupid Jean for letting them convince me yet again to try something that I didn’t want to try.  I tell them every time: if there is a one in a million chance of side effects, I will be the one.  I took one pill that was meant to help me sleep and instead made me so hyper I could not be still or shut up.  That was fun.  I called the pharmacist that time (always ask the pharmacist, not the doctor.  They only know what the drug reps tell them, is my take) and she said I need to stop that particular pill immediately because it was doing the exact opposite of what it was meant to do.  Chronic illness is a blast, people.  One fun experience after another.  Modern medicine contributes a lot of that fun.  A lot.

I just want something that will ease the pain without killing me as a side effect.  How hard is that, modern medicine?

On a bright note, I bought the cutest little one mug percolater from Amazon.  I have made coffee with every kind of pot except this one:

Here’s my new one: