Two weeks to go and I can not wait.

So, it is two weeks today till surgery and I can not wait. I am over the pain and in the grand scheme of things I have little to belly ache about it.
I am in the privileged position that my pain should disappear within month of the operation.  It may hurt from time to time but it has always been manageable. I was born broken and although my mother did the best she could in a small country town, I was not fixed. In the end a very good surgeon did the best he could with a bad situation. We knew that it was all going to pear shaped at some point and it was just a matter of time. Having always being broken, I don't really know different and it is just a way of life, frustrating at times and down right depressing at others but on the whole fairly happy and my normal.
Recently, someone on the Internet suggested I had more right to complain about pain and illness than others, because they felt I had an identifiable issue. ie mashed up hip. And I was 'allowed' to whinge. This rankles quite a lot.  Not only because that sort of statement is pretty ridiculous but also because it touched on something that I have been thinking about for a long time. The privilege of pain and that I am in the white straight man zone.
First, I just want to talk a little about pain. Up until recently I have had bouts of being pain free, if I sat for a while or was in bed it was pretty good. I know can feel the joint in bed and some day there is little I  can do to ignore it and have taken all the pain killers. I hobble about and swear a lot and rest a lot but I can get stuff done. Not as much as I would like but I am pretty good at working out what I can get done on a given day. But I have had to adjust everything in my life. I am not out as much, when I am out, I am packing heavy pain killers so I can walk, socialise or generally try and live life, within a hip that is rubbing bone on bone allows.
It is isolating because being at home is the best, less distance to walk, no pesky public transport and comfy couch and amazing bed. Our couch also allows me to lie down and there is a big arse telly with Netflix and a the Skybox. So, home is safe and cosy but we do live a fair way away from most of our social life when you are on a cane and restricted with distance.
That isolation plays havoc with your mental health, social media shows people out and about doing things, some that you have had to turn down. As time wears on getting people to come to you and getting to things becomes harder and it is easier to curl up at home. At home I have one person to complain to. Mr Gin is lovely but he does not need to hear that, me being in pain is tough for him too. He is doing more around the house and in general being the rock for my crazy. And crazy is the operative word. I have a couple outlets, social media, taking photos and sewing. Sewing is becoming difficult as the standing and the physical action of using the sewing machine foot is getting harder. So, the outlets are becoming smaller and social media is the best place to feel less like you are alone, driving the love of your life nuts. Facebook is a pub and twitter a huge nightclub.  Inevitably you end up being that person who has a one update. Or a couple, that revolve around how shitty you feel and you are cancelling again. But it is an outlet and an important one.
But I am very privileged. I have a light at the end of my tunnel, I have juggled and am on a road that should lead to new and possibly a better normal. As long as it does not go wrong relatively pain free, able to dance all night and then walk home. Why is this privilege? Because there is an end.
I have a number of friends with chronic conditions there is no end, there are less pain options but you have to give up something in some cases or there is simply nothing that can be done but managing life and expectations. And that isolation I have only had to deal with a short period is their life. And justifiably they have to have outlets because life is bed of roses and roses have big bloody thorns.  One friend, who has Ehlers-Danlos, a rare joint disorder was on the receiving end of some nasty stuff because she vented on Facebook. I was once briefly was misdiagnosed with Ehlers-Danlos, I am just overly bendy, nothing that causes the issues she has. And has no way to get away from them. Personally, I would be complaining a lot more than she does. And hell, more than most friends with issues.
Mainly because I have walked in their shoes for a mile and I don't like it, not one freaking bit. I am prevailed and acknowledge it. Next time you see that whiney sick mate complaining on Facebook, don't tell them to pull their socks up. Offer to take the party to them or just listen. And don't be a dick.
Bring on Thursday two weeks away.