An Ode To Sciatica

Oh, Sciatica, I f*cking hate you. No, my most odious friend, I really f*cking hate you.
You have turned my nights into a sweaty living hell.
Sheets wrapped around my suffering hips, buttocks, and down my thighs.
Heating pad cooking my backside until my turkey timer pops.
Our last few months together have narrowed my existence into a small world of pain.
Walking hunched over like a little old woman, hand tightly gripping my right buttock,
And cursing my inability to find a comfortable way to have my body.
I pace, I lay down, I try to find a way to sit comfortably, but there is no getting past you.
As long as you are in my world, I am unable to focus on anything else.
I notice nothing else when you throb in my butt cheek and down my leg.
You have become my life, and it has been an intense few months, maybe too intense.
No maybe about it, you have ruined my enjoyment in my usual enjoyments, you  greedy wh*re.
You demand all of my attention, keep my from being able to focus on a book,
Only able to watch tv that requires no thought processes, watching the clock,
Waiting for the time that my pain medicines kick in.
Your presence has made me more short tempered and forgetful,
Rendering me even less enjoyable to be around, amazingly.
When you leave me, and you are going to leave me,
Do not bother to ever darken my door again, although that may be just a pipe dream.
I know that our relationship will most likely be an on off cycle of hatred and pain,
Mostly on my end, because I do hate you.
Oh, Sciatica, I f*cking hate you. No, my most odious friend, I really f*cking hate you.