What The Underworld Looks Like

I have crossed over into the Underworld for my monthly journey.

Each journey is different, but the pain and medication are my constants. Every journey takes me on a different path through the darkness, so I’ll never know if I’ll find my way back out again or not.

The journey today entails the following:

  • The hard-wired fire alarm has decided to start peeping. I have notified the landlady and she should be here today to disconnect it. Thankfully, we also have battery-operated alarms in the house as backups.
    The peeping is highly unnerving – it makes me want to burst into tears. And so I close the bedroom door and turn up the music a bit to drown the peeping out.
    The problem is that when on Tylenol 3, my hearing becomes highly sensitive to any noise. I mentioned this yesterday, when I was going mad from all the scratching noises I could not locate. My ears prick up and my head pounds and my nerves go through the roof.
    So today I chose gentle music, and also turned on the HEPA fan, my personal white noise favourite, and that helped. The other problem became being trapped in the bedroom. While it’s good to get some more packing done, I still needed to clean house and cook. Ain’t no one else here but me to do all this. My husband is at work.
    The landlady came by and unhooked the hard-wired alarm and took it away. The moment she was out of sight, the peeping began again, and that’s when I realised I’d had the wrong fire alarm pegged. It was actually the battery-operated alarm in the computer room, right next to the hallway. I figured I could just take care of that, myself. I was wrong.
    I broke off one of the hinge locks in trying to pry the damned thing open. I grabbed a flathead screwdriver, and once I got the compartment open, I removed the old battery. Then I put the the new battery in, head-first. It got stuck when I tried to push the butt of the battery down. Then I could not remove the battery. Normal people could use their nails, but mine are brittle at the moment (see below), and I yelped in pain as I tore several fingernails trying to remove the battery. So I grabbed the screwdriver. As I tried to get the best careful leverage on the battery, I pressed my left index finger down to grip the alarm case…and punctured my finger on the broken plastic piece.
    Now I was bleeding on the damned fire alarm.
    I finally got the battery in butt-first and was able to screw the thing back into place on the ceiling, but holy shit, what a feat when stoned on narcotics! Oh and the pain ramped up during this whole episode, because I had gotten mad, which caused a hormone rush. Anytime hormones go flying in the bloodstream, an endometriosis flare is made that much more painful.
  • Speaking of fingers – mine are disintegrating. The dermatitis is rampant again on my left thumb, my right ring finger, and my right pinky finger. Is it contact dermatitis from the soaps and other stuff at work? Is it from food allergies – all the tomato sauce I’ve been eating lately? Is it from cheese? Is it from the cow’s milk yoghurt? Is it from the protein bars I eat? Is it from the Trader Joe’s Indian style crepes I’ve been eating?
    Whatever the reason, it’s painful, because the skin is splitting open and bleeding, and some of the skin is just flaking up and catching on fabrics, which then pulls the skin and hurts. I bandage the fingers but the bandages keep getting wet cuz it’s hard to wash just a couple fingers at a time after every trip to the bathroom. And uh, with endometriosis flaring, there are frequent trips to the bathroom.




  • For over a week, despite taking all of my supplements regularly, my nails have gone brittle and shattered and/or splintered again.
  • It’s hard to breathe at times from being stoned on Tylenol 3, but I still feel all the pain areas moderately. I keep falling asleep in the middle of activities like typing, packing my suitcase, and cleaning.
  • I have vegetables that must be cooked up and portions frozen, or else it will go bad, and there’s no one else to do it but me…me with a sharp knife in this stoned condition…and then me with a lit gas stove and a pot of boiling water.
    One time, I forgot about the tea kettle and all the water evaporated and the fire burned the pot to irreparable damage, setting off the fire alarm.
    Would you rather the vegetables go bad? But I paid so much money for them! They are organic and supposedly pesticide-free!
    There’s no one else here but me to do this. My husband gets home late from work.
  • Decisions – decisions are hard when I am in pain and/or on pain medication. I cannot decide simple things, such as which vegetable to start cutting up, first. I cannot keep track of which pieces of clothes go together to make an outfit, even though all the pieces are sitting right in front of me, so I cannot decide what is best to pack for my upcoming Michigan trip. I cannot decide which chore needs to be done, first, so I just sit or stand there, staring off into space. I cannot decide what to eat, so I spend much of the day grazing or not eating at all. Hunger leads to low blood sugar and therefore makes my pain worse, because hypoglycemia means the body’s hormones are thrown out of whack. Hormones are what are already going haywire with an endo flare, and so the pain increases with the agitation.
  • Everything looks myopic when one is suffering with chronic pain (I’ve mentioned this vision thing before). Walking around in a blurry pain haze, along with the rampant indecision, on top of everything else, just makes life that much more stressful and depressing.

Throughout the journey in the Underworld, these obstacles and frustrations will be magnified, and will contribute to further depression and disillusionment.

My goal during each trip through the Underworld is to make it back out alive.

So far, I’m chuckling at how much today has sucked emotionally and physically for me, and I’m not daring to wonder what else is in store. I’m just going to get through the next few mintues at a time until I can figure out how to get the hell out of here again.

  • Annnd right on cue…a sharp, loud nail clipper type noise just began from outside. It is the next-door neighbor, pruning her small (sago or pindo) palm tree. The sound of nail clippers in general is usually enough to send me over the edge, and the sound magnified on Tylenol 3 can make me rage-worthy. But to bring in the equivalent of foot-long nail clippers, which make even louder noise? COME ON! You have GOT to be kidding me, Universe!!!

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