Grocery day is a very dangerous day

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About a week of groceries there. There is not much variety today. Or much there at all really. The tear in my abdominal wall muscles keeps me from carrying much, as well as from eating much—if my stomach is close to half full that part of my body is nothing but pain.

So dinner is a single bologna sandwich, made with the cheapest brand I’ve ever seen, praying that “flavorings” on the ingredients list doesn’t involve anything related to juniper.

The pain in my side is about the worst it’s been in a while… And the worst part about it was that it decided to kick in at the store. An impulsive decision to use a European style shopping cart paid off when I used it to keep from hitting the floor.

I should have got a motor cart was my first thought. The second was blinding panic. You know, the usual. Is this that bad this can’t be that bad SUCK IT UP MOTHERFUCKER

The aisle goes Laser Floyd. Muscle spasms in the area force me back onto the cart.

Is this it? Am I DISABLED?

It took a lot of good Samaritans to get me home today. The groceries were put away, only mildly smashed—the bread may reinflate from where I landed on it—and I was finally able to rest.

I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. This is the kind of injury that I’m not supposed to do the things that are in my line of work. But if I don’t, bills and rent…don’t. If I keep working, I could really wreck my body… Well, worse.

…I think I’m gonna sleep now. I really can’t see straight from this pain anyways.

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