On the edge...

...and still in pain, albeit less so than I was before visiting the chiropractor.

In the learn-something-new-every-day file, I learned on Friday that there is yet another pain medicine I cannot take. I downed one of the pills the doctor gave me and, within a few hours, was feeling even more dull and listless than usual. If that's possible.

The result? After that, insomnia on Friday night, followed by an hour of fitful sleep in the wee hours of Saturday morning which included a nightmare of incredible detail starring people I know, one that rolled a significant number of my own worst fears and suppositions into one horrifying, realistic whole. I can remember it all even now; it had a ring of truth to it that such evil dreams seldom have.

So much for those pills.

Inevitably, yesterday was a long day. I was out of the house by 6:30 to hit the weekly car show -- I had reasons for going that went beyond seeing the cars -- and then an afternoon trek to pick up some info for a story. I was not at my sharpest by then, let me tell you.

Last night was better. I slept, anyway. But the pain continues, now unrelieved by medication; a few bad moves in the night were enough to wake me up.

For the moment, waking life isn't very nice, and sleep is worse. That doesn't leave much respite or refuge.

The next two days are primed to be truly awful. Let it be said that it's not a matter of my attitude going into upcoming events; I seem predestined to get a series of swift kicks to the painful parts no matter how I approach things.

That, dear friends, is depressing.

In fact, I dislike even writing about it. So I'll stop.