Little Pink Houses

It's New Year's Eve, 5:21 AM. I have not been to sleep yet, which isn't unusual, but I had made a little progress lately and was going to bed around 2 AM and rising before noon. I was pretty proud of myself for those couple of weeks I kept that up.
This Christmas was probably the worst one yet. I usually get happy around this time no matter what, but my pain has been getting much worse and I didn't feel like doing shit. We didn't even get the tree up. I worried about all the things I had to do to the point of insanity so I finally just decided not to stress over it. I had some gifts for my daughter and taped up some Christmas cards I'd received and that was about all I could muster. I'm wondering if I have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome brought on by my illness and or my medication. Maybe it's not a classic case, but I am most certainly fatigued. Chronically.
The thing I have been doing lately to occupy my mind is fantasizing about having my own apartment for my daughter and me. I have made a separate Amazon Wish List in addition to my default one with things I want for said apartment. I dream about doing whatever I want (which, really, isn't that much) and not be edited by my Mother. I don't care how old you are. If you live with your parent(s), you're 16 all over again. Anyway, my fantasy apartment will be mostly pink. The art on the walls will represent the movies and music I love; Buffalo '66, Fiona Apple, Rick Springfield, Into the Wild. All in really cool frames. And I would love to have a pink sofa just like You Tube's Kandee Johnson. Her whole house is cool, and I love her to death! (another thing I am doing - watching You Tube videos of others people's lives.)
I just can't escape the mindset that if my life is forever going to suck, I should at least be free and surrounded in pink and create my own wacky schedule without criticism. If I were in a situation where I were being cared for, I would suck it up and accept my fate, but that isn't the case. I may as well be on my own (with my daughter) and take my medicine and watch Netflix in peace and play my music loud. These aren't big things in a normal person's life, but to me they are monumental.

Speaking of medicine, I have been getting drug screened at my pain clinic for years. This is no big deal to me as I do not do illegal drugs and I take my medicine as prescribed. Understandably, the facility wants to make sure no one is mixing their meds with bad stuff and also to monitor that they are actually taking their pills and not selling them or something. So after years of this with no problem, about a month ago the clinic called me and said I tested positive for Tramadol. I am not on Tramadol. I was on it years ago and it did absolutely nothing for me so I was put on something else. The protocol for the clinic is to dismiss anyone whose drug screen comes back abnormal. I freaked the fuck out. How did this happen? Who is fucking with me? I swore to my doctor I was not taking Tramadol, just like all the junkies who swear up and down they didn't snort any coke or shoot up any heroin despite the positive test results. I was actually with the Physician's Assistant when I was told and tears came to my eyes. If I were dismissed from this clinic, what other clinic would accept me with a failed drug test in my records? I have a pretty good relationship with this PA, a lovely German woman who unfortunately recently left the practice. She asked my doctor what he could do for me and he said he would give me another chance, thank you God. I think she believed me as this has never happened and she knows my personality. I mean, I don't even drink and I am very anti-drug. This is all so strange to me and I have been doing research and calling pharmacists trying to find out what may have caused this false-positive. I feel like asking to have two urine samples taken next time in case I need to prove my innocence. I am terrified it will happen again. I wanted to tell my doctor I need either a higher dose of my existing medication, or something for breakthrough pain as everything is getting worse, but now may not be the best time.The spasms in my feet are more frequent and more painful than ever. Imagine lying in bed (because after all, that's what I do best) and it feels like your foot or shin is struck by lightning. My leg jumps in the air and I audibly yell out. It only lasts a few seconds but I just about scare the shit out of anyone sitting near me. Then there's the ever-present leg pain. Let me tell you, if I WERE going to do any other drugs, it wouldn't be Tramadol, it'd be marijuana. North Carolina is not a medical marijuana state but I wonder if it would help as I hear it's good for nerve pain. I've never smoked pot. I wouldn't even know how to smoke it. But I sure would try it it were feasible. But with my luck I would get lung cancer or emphysema. In other news, I have had a few trysts with my ex boyfriend from the summer. Turns out that was a bad idea because in my old age I have discovered I cannot separate love and sex. But I must say, having sex, especially good sex, sure does make one forget about being in writhing pain all the time. It's a good thing I have (some) self-control because this new discovery could turn me into a major slut. Besides, it's just too much trouble leaving the damn house.