I went back to work on Monday. I just got too stir-crazy sitting at home, and the orthopedist told me that lifting hadn't caused my neck problems and wouldn't exacerbate them, so I figured I might as well try to earn some coin while waiting for my neurologist appointment, particularly as I had to beseech the deacons for my rent money this month (being out of work for three weeks finally did what various earlier brushes with penury hadn't succeeded in doing--pushing me totally into the red), and have no desire to do the same for April. My philosophy was, if I was going to be in pain and reduced dexterity anyway, I might as well be being useful as I was able at the time.
The discomfort and debilitation has definitely gotten worse. I am much reconciled to the idea of surgery, even a week away from the second opinion I am seeking from the neuro lady, whom I fully expect to confirm her colleague's advice. Meanwhile, I am repeatedly reminded how relatively good I have it; how light and momentary is my present affliction. My bosses sister, who had two breast cancer surgeries in the last month, was diagnosed two weeks ago with endometrial cancer, in what they thought was the first stage. On Wednesday, during the surgery to deal with that, they discovered that the cancer had already spread to other organs. The poor woman has been in intensive care ever since she woke from the anesthesia. My boss is spending every evening at the hospital, and we've a sale this weekend.
A girlfriend of mine is going to pass my resume along to her husband's company, to consider me for a technical writing position. I can't afford to be an independent contractor anymore. I plan to spend Sunday afternoon napping and then assembling all the paperwork to do my 2012 taxes--I need to get that squared away before I go under the knife. I dearly hope that I won't owe any additional amount besides the quarterly estimated taxes I've already paid!