During my AD&D days, we all learned quickly to not embrace the usage of a wish spell, or any magic item with similar powers.
I get the reality of interpreting a poorly worded wish into something spectacularly explosive, but IMO the process shouldn’t involve unspoken ramifications inflicted upon half the known multiverse. For fuck’s sake, just don’t put the damned things in your dungeons…
The best example of all of this would be : “I wish I was rich.” And a beloved family member dies and leaves you everything according to the will, most likely including a doomed castle out in the marsh that is ravaged by a wraith or lich… Oh! And that fancy ring in the estate’s treasure, better bet it is cursed, just sayin’.
It is in accordance with this attitude about wishes that I present my day:
I have been wanting a break from work ever since, well, ever since I got back from two weeks off over the holidays. Hey, I don’t make the rules, but that is _very_ much exactly how it works… Anyway, here I am wishing for a break. Needing a break, in the living on the verge of tears sort of way.
And here, I have my break. I scheduled a vacation day this coming Friday for Apyrl’s First Friday event over at the Slap-N-Tickle. Now, I have today and tomorrow off as well, maybe Wednesday.
Only, the thing is, I must not have worded it right, because with the time off came the recently-sliced-open festering, puss-filled hole on the ball of my left foot.
Yay!
This, boys and girls, is why I do not intone wishes.
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As for the newest levels of masochism… It takes a fucking lot to say “Yes.” when the doctor asks, “Are you ready…?” for the third attempt to inject an already bloated and under-pressure puss boil on the ball of your foot.
OMFGs! Wow. I cannot express with words…. truly.
I am, however, fascinated with the fact that my body responded to the excessive stimulus as it does during kink play. I spent most of last night and this afternoon quaking with spasms. I couldn’t exactly call they positive, but enjoyable at least in a neutral sense. It does support my theory that my pain perception is evolving to new places…
Backstory: my feet have been increasing geometrically in their sensitivity ever since chemotherapy. I suspect it is a combination of the thinning of the skin and the reversal of the neuropathy that was caused by the treatment. I haven’t much been able to manage intense sensation on my feet of late. It leaves me easily overwhelmed, for good or bad. This hyper-sensitivity surprises me considering that neuropathy as a side effect of my HIV meds has already begun showing its signs…
Introduce the growing blood and puss filled boil on the ball of my left foot. As much as my doctor wanted to give the antibiotics a change to work down the infection and pressure, we both knew it was for the best to cut and drain it.
Introduce the syringe of numbing stuff (it was one of the -caines…) with a big ass needle aimed directly at the above-mentioned pustule.
OMGs! OMGs! I cannot explain the pain involved in that, and I have a pronounced track record of how I define ‘painful’… usually involving spinal taps and pinched nerves… He stopped twice, only getting tiny bits of the fluid into the site. OMGs… I wanted to cry, scream and hit something all at once. It didn’t help that one of my over-stim responses is to flinch my extremities. After a repositioning, he finally managed to inject enough to numb the site. Well, we all know that numb only means to sharp pain, right. All the pressure was still there. Oh, hey! Guess what? Throbbing? As in endless-amounts-of-throbbing-agony…? Yeah… that’s pressure sensation. Joy.
I knew I couldn’t watch the shot or the cut, which is normally something that wouldn’t bother me to do these days, but I did watch the drain. It was lumpy. Very bloody, but it had white chunks in it. Yeah, so not pretty, except maybe in a pasta sauce sense…
The pressure was instantly abated, well, partially, but it felt like the heavens opened up and swallowed up all the hell of the earth. (That would be the rapture they speak about, no…?)
So, any of you experience that moment in a heavy kink scene…? That one when you have been taking pounding after pounding and holding up fine, but then, in the minute you realize it is over, you collapse and begin weeping, well, really sobbing like a baby…? Yeah, that was me. I am fortunate that I have a kink-friendly doctor and that I have known my doctor well enough over the years, professionally and socially, that we have a good connection and a history of heavy conversation.
Much like my body responded to the sensations as over-stiming from sex, I bonded to my doctor today similar to how I would a kinky partner.
Curiouser and curiouser.
gryphon's hole 