The pain in my chest is worse every day. I can't go to school, I can't work, everything hurts. Rolling over in bed, coughing, laughing, turning my steering wheel, picking up Shelby, reaching for things, taking a step. I shouldn't be complaining because I'm so happy to be alive, but I'm starting to feel pretty sorry for myself. Knowing that tomorrow it will probably hurt worse than today, and the next day will probably hurt even worse is a serious bummer. I'm tired of whining about it. I'm tired of lying around in bed.
Doctor tomorrow, I think.
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