Nerve blocks: From Alcock's canal to genitofemoral nerve

The first nerve block didn't do anything to help my pain.  That was in the ischial spine.  The second time, April 3, the doc tried doing the block in the Alcock's canal.  Same nerve, lower down the butt.  That doesn't seem to have worked either.

I go back on Monday, April 22, and the doc will try doing the block in the genitofemoral nerve, through the abdomen.  I feel like if I have hope that it will work, it definitely WON'T work because the universe likes to see me crumble.  But I feel like I have to have hope because, rationally, that's what you have to do in these situations.

I want to explain all the reasons why I think the next nerve block in the new location may or may not work but then the universe will know what I'm thinking and it will do the opposite.

About a month ago, I went off a med that was making me crazy, like crazy, like eye-bulging crazy according to my mom, which is a funny image, frog-like, and my anxiety broke soon after I stopped the med, and if I never go back there for the rest of my life that will be good enough for me, even if I spend every day in bedridden depression.  I just keep reminding myself: this mental state isn't THAT ONE.

Now I am in some kind of shadow zone where I am afraid of where I was and I feel helpless in the face of the future.  I feel like I've spent everything I had, tried every corridor in this rat maze and now the only logical thing to do is bed down here but there is no bedding and none of the other things a rat needs to live.

I'm going back through my months and years to remember the last time I felt truly good.  I keep going back to 2008... I was in grad school... I was eating extra and I was piling my brain with constructive things.  My self-discipline was high.  In my journal from that time, my handwriting is uniform.  These days, when I do journal, it's illegible even to me.

At the time I had a grad assistanceship under a professor whom I called Sandpainter because he was so measured and patient in everything he did, painting one grain of sand at a time, not for the detail but for the practice of it.  I think that made a difference.

I wrote some other stuff here but it was too pathetic.  So I'll just end this here.  My mom told me to focus on the most basic of basic things right now.  So I wiped out all the dust from behind my toilet.  And then I dusted the plunger.  And after a few days I had detailed the whole bathroom.  Then I slept all my extra hours for several days, but that's how it goes.