Physical Pain Really Is Worse

I have spent much time suffering from anxiety of various sorts and depression of different colors. I was once incorrectly diagnosed as bipolar by a doctor who never talked to me at all about anything except the side effects of the meds he prescribed. I cannot give up the idea that some of my superiors were aware of what was going on in my medical care and insurance expenditures and treated me appropriately in light of what they were so sure they knew. I have been put to sleep for surgery four times, to repair my left quadricepts tendon twice, to fuse a disk in my upper spine while mucking around in the nerves and giving me numbness and limited use of my hands, total replacement of left shoulder, and surgery on my right foot to remove gout deposits. Not so much, but every time one was over my mind was slower and less efficient than before. I worry about alzheimimers but more than that I simply worry about growing stupid and old and forgetful. My body is not worth the chemicals that make it up, but can't my mind stay ahead of it? Clearly the answer is No. All of that can build to an excruciating peak of pain and futility some days. I have been hounded by it all my life and even more consistently all my career. Most of the time depression has won and I could write some words that would evoke tears if I simply had the time. Talent wasted. A god betrayed. People cheated. I carry all of it and worry about the future of a man who has no purpose. Yet the physical pain can make the mental agony disappear in an instant. The weakness, the klutziness, the numbness, the throbbing might be lessened by meds, but I took Oxycodone for several years and reached some kind of medical limit that had me taken off of them, with no apparent addiction by the way. So I take multiple medications that probably work in their pitiful ridiculous way and if the weather is right and I throw the dice just right I can walk straight and tall and in some way appear to be what I once was or expected to be. The humiliation and the inability to sit still or to sleep more than two or three hours can break the peace and start me down the cliff again. It hurts to pull myself up after falling. It hurts to be unable to do so. It hurts to be alienated from grandchildren because I am an old old man before my time. It all hurts, but when the hands and the feet start throbbing nothing else matters. One foot in front of the other. Use all your fingers at once. Try not to wince. Let life happen but don't reveal it.