In the vein of “sometime you have to just say it because sometimes just saying it helps”…

I am seriously depressed about the damage to my thumb. “Arthritis” was the catch all term he used for “messed up cartilage”, and he seemed to have no idea if it would really get better or not. It’s still sore even though I have it immobilized most of the day. There’s another 2 to 4 months of this before I am supposed to go back and see the doctor.

Unless there are some serious improvements, it’s unlikely that I will ever play bass again. At least, nothing like how I used to. The thought of not jamming along to some 12 bar riff, locking with a drummer, while someone screams on the guitar… ever again… that’s hard for me to take. One of my favorite things in the world. Sure, I don’t do it much now. But to have it laid out in front of me that I will never do it again? That’s pretty rough.

Even if the joint stays this way, it’s possible that I may play guitar again, though likely not for as long, nor as energetically as I used to. Holding a pick is doable, but not for long.

Not being able to pick up my 2 year old. Not being able to open a jar. Not being able to turn the stupid key in the car ignition. They seem minor individually, but together they’re starting to take their toll.

I’m not sleeping well. MrsPages is ready to take the frying pan to bed to clonk me with when I get up to read in the middle of the night. My devotions and scripture reading have tanked. I know now is the time that they should be increasing, but I just want to sit and do nothing. I’m not very good company (when I’m not hiding in my office). I’m not exercising. I’m not writing anything.

Mid-life crisis brought on a bit abruptly? Perhaps. Facing my own aging and mortality? Maybe.

Whatever it’s called, I’m just bummed.

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