One part saint and two parts sinner, with the last part still on the line.

Sometimes I wonder, who, which or what higher power did I piss off? Sometimes I think I have an idea but then I wonder if the things I have done are really enough to constitute what I go through. I've done some horrible things in my life. Things that, not to sound to cliche will haunt me well past my grave. I've tried to make amends. I really have. There are, though some things that cannot be justified or amended. I've changed my life and let go of the person I was. I've tried to grow up and be the best man I can be. 

There are days when I feel like I might actually be making some headway and then there are those days where you take two steps forward and 99 steps back. Where I am going with this is kind of simple. I feel like giving up. I feel like I have lost my fight. There have been days sometimes even weeks where I felt down and feeling blue. But I always knew I'd come back strong given enough time. I don't feel that way anymore. 

Ever since I can remember life has put my soul through hell, but *I* put my physical body through equal punishment. For a long time I almost had myself convinced I was indestructible. I did what I wanted, when I wanted, and had the time of my life (sometimes). For a long time, I felt so dead inside from everything else that I craved the physical pain so that I could still know I was alive. And before any of you jump to conclusions, I was not a cutter or a burner, druggie or anything like that.  No matter how many bones I broke, gouges I took from flesh, shapes I contorted my body into..I walked away. Some days the pain took a little bit longer to go away, but I always, always walked away. Now, there are days I can barely walk without help. 

This past winter I underwent a knee surgery that has now been proclaimed by myself, physical therapist and surgeon as a failure. I went through 5 months of healing, physical therapy and strength training. The pain never totally went away but was to a level I thought manageable. Then I returned to work two months ago and I realized just how wrong I was. When I left work in February we were working 42 hour weeks. When I went back in July we were working 48 hour weeks. After the first day of 9.5 hours on my feet I realized I was in trouble and it has only gotten worse since. I cannot make it through a day without wearing my rigid support brace. It makes life miserable having 2.5lbs strapped to your leg for 12 hours a day but I have no choice. A few weeks into work my knee had a sharp snap followed by instant swelling and ungodly pain. I worked through it. 

It happened again two weeks ago and this one was even worse, putting me on the ground for 5-10 mins in the middle of the mill. I called the my surgeon back and he got me in on Tuesday of this week. I should have just kept my mouth shut. 

Upon a reasonably fast evaluation he came to a few conclusions. A) There is a grinding in my knee that wasn't there before. B)I have lost 10-15% of my mobility in 2 months (C I need to go to physical therapy again, as well as an MRI AND see another specialist then there is (D) <-- D gets double parenthesis cause its a doozy. (D) He is recommending to this new specialist to perform an extensive surgery on my knee yet again. This new surgery entails cutting my knee wide open, completely severing any ties to the knee cap, repositioning said knee cap and trying to reattach everything. And that is just what we know of now, he is reasonably certain there is some more damage that the MRI will show that will have to be fixed. 

He sent me to PT yesterday in the hopes that maybe we could do something that didn't involve the surgery. So I went to PT and within 30 seconds of my therapist looking at my knee she flat out said that she could not fix it. All she can do is POSSIBLY help the pain. So now. My sanity is hanging on the balance of this new specialist. 

I had a very very hard time coming to terms with having the first knee surgery. I spent almost half of this year out of work because of it and it was for nothing, actually it was for less than nothing because after taking several hundred measurements of my leg, my therapist says its off more now than it was before surgery. I don't know if I can go through this again. I don't know if my job will let me go through this again. If this surgery is as extensive as it sounds it could mean an even longer recovery time than the previous. The word disability has been thrown around quite a few times this week. To every single one of you have mentioned the idea. Fuck you. Most of you that have brought it up are the ones I have worked beside for years in one place or another. And every single fucking person that knows me knows all I have ever done since I and anyone else can remember is work my ass off. I have worked until I have literally worn holes through the skin on my fingers. Worked so many hours in a row that I honestly don't remember how I got home that night. I've shoveled shit, stocked shelves, sold guns, pumped gas, sawed and piled lumber and everything else in between. All I want to do is keeping do that. It is who I am.  I want to earn my living and go home at night knowing that I did it on my own and not on some one elses dime. 

I know in my heart of hearts that I have deserved every single thing that has happened to me over the years and I have done my absolute best to shoulder what has been handed to me and carry on. 

I also know in my heart of hearts that I will keep carrying on, now matter how much more is piled on. I will be who I am as I've always been. But tonight, the load feels like too much.