adopt a dog from

Okay.
Um.
Perhaps a... Lack of coherency here.
But.
Reason.

After work, I took the bus to the Giant Food store to get my flu shot. They asked that I stay in the store for ten minutes, so I did, and then I went out and across the parking lot, and across the street in the crosswalk. As I got to the curb, I tripped. I fell. I fell hard.
I lay there for a few seconds, as I often do, to assess any damage as quickly as possible. Pain in both hands, pain in my right knee. Okay. Time to stand up.
Attempt to stand. Attempt to actually move. Fail. I wait, breathing, knowing that Iapos;m actually fine, I just need to stand up.
Footsteps appear, and I look up. A man asks me if I am okay, and he reaches down and takes my arms. I go limp, let him drag me to my feet, because I am shaking unintentionally. He checks me over. No gushing blood, no head wound, Iapos;m fine. I thank him very much and limp to the bus stop, where I fall onto the bench and look myself over. Deep scrapes and bruises, but thatapos;s not bad. Whatapos;s bad is the raw nerves, screaming.
Raw nerves, screaming, white hot, exacerbated by fibromyalgia, screaming.
I limped onto the bus (the driver made it kneel for me). I got to my stop, limped off, limped home. I am in the wheelchair. I took a Soma. I am waiting for Adam to come home. The pain of those raw nerves is so insane that I need to narrow my focus to pinpoint precision to block it out before I scream and scream, oh gods.
This pain should not be so awful, it really shouldnapos;t. Life with a chronic pain disability that targets nerves.
My left pinky finger is covered in blood, my right knee has a spot of blood, my right palm is scraped raw, and the outside of my right hand is also scraped raw. This truly hurts more than it should, and I hate that. I am glad I only know how to touch type, because I am striking keys with only my middle fingers. The typing distracts me from painpainpainpain.

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