The South will rise again!

Over a year ago I was in this same position. The position of being woken up in the early hours of the morning with probably the most agonising pain in the world.
Last time it happened I couldn't move my arms for hours without whimpering, this time it was just the wrists and hip.
Got to jump the gun this time though, and pounded the painkillers, those massive horse tranquilizer sized ones. The box says take one every so many hours, do not exceed three in twenty-four hours. There were none left after two hours, although I did only have half a pack left which would of been around five.
My kidneys don't hurt and I am not pissing blood, so I can safely say that I am fine, and they worked because I managed to get more sleep.
My right hand now works fine, just a slight residual ache.
The left is still a bitch. Not as bad as I can leave it sat still and it is unnoticeable but the odd movement will send that sharp intense pain to the pit of my stomach where I want to throw up.
Probably the kind of thing I should see a doctor about, but last time I put them down to growing pains, only uber, intense, makes me want to cry growing pains. Still, that time I manned up and put a tent up, extremely manly.
I can't see anything physically wrong, and there is nothing that could of caused it so again I wonder if they are just late, and hardcore, growing pains.
If it happens again I will go to a doctor, and chances are it will happen again because my Gran had the same kind of thing until her mid-twenties - yay!

But teeth-grinding pain aside, today has been excellent. I went to see a American Civil War history and reenactment thing. I loved it.
It was just like my childhood when I spent days with my Gran down at the cowboy park. That was when I first met Ray and spend an afternoon with him as he showed me all sorts. And now here we all are years later.
I got to play with my camera too, I still love the thing.
Gosh, I miss the cowboy park, and it is shut down too which makes me all the sadder. Still, I am glad I have great stories I can forever tell which include cowboys, campfires and banjos. Learning how to shoot an air rifle. Getting a bit worse for wear in a saloon. Sleeping above a Sheriff's Office watching CSI and reading pagan books. And exploring undergrowth with a six-shooter on my belt.
I am privileged.
Except the lack of painkillers. How I wish I hadn't eaten them all because now I am starting to hurt again.