Why I fear a life with pain

I’m going to say things that may paint me as arrogant and ignorant, but I’m going to say I hate pain more than the next person.  There.  I said it.  I hate pain,  a lot. It changes, y whole universe…

I’m going to say things that may paint me as arrogant and ignorant, but I’m going to say I hate pain more than the next person. 
There.  I said it.  I hate pain,  a lot. It changes, y whole universe in a way most of you will not be able to comprehend… At least in my head. 

Note. Possible title. At least in my head
Side note. I have not been the same since my nausea. 

Recently I became spontaneously disabled. I have no origin story for this ailment. I just noticed one morning,  I couldn’t raise my left arm at the shoulder to shampoo my hair.  I remember refraining it immediately to be something minor based on my poor sleep Friday and Saturday and Sunday and Monday. Weather occasionally would give me some stiff neck pains overnight. 
Note.  Long pause. Loud stomach. Guilt and sadness enter my minds arena. Attention diverted. Am I sick? 
Today I got the news I did not have a stroke, which was relieving, but that it’s a bone thing.  A rotator cuff, which I have yet to research,  but many Facebook friends have expressed experience either personally,  or once removed. 
Tonight, as I tossed and turned, and got a little high,  I hurt it. More. 
It has hurt for every might because I toss and turn and fall asleep on either one should or the other. 
The light bulb moment was when I turned to my phone, resting bedside. I assumed a position putting my shoulder reasonably hard into the mattress to hold all my weight,  as I read and replied to incoming texts. 
I had irritated my own old,  poorly healed should injury from over 5 years ago. 
At that moment, dealing with this discovery and simultaneously dealing with pain,  I figured it out. How pain breaks me. 
It takes control of my subtext.  My second thought stream. O have often written how I believe my brain works on two or more streams of thought. I’ve called it my two brains or my two voices. 
I discovered the secret to leading a life closer to my ideal,  was to plan for that,  and always try to have something for each to focus on. I am more active,  for example,  with one track listening to zhoeard astern whole I work,  and my job.  Or TV.  Or music.  Or even,  in rare cases a game. 
Most commonly,  Facebook or social media. 
Of I’m working on two things at once, then both brains are attended to. 
Two things go wrong. 
One, either side can get an idea,  or remember something,  and in that moment of excitement, explode with joy and take over the whole brain. Whatever the other one was thinking,  no longer exists. Quite often,  with no memory trace. 
I point out,  it’s not absolute. I don’t suddenly forget I’m driving a car for example,  but I have certainly been caught forgetting what I was talking,  or typing about. More so if a bit high. 
The other issue, equally damaging is when one thought stream ends,  or just loses interest, and goes wandering through my memory or what’s going on in front.  If one brain gets bored,  it’ll seek out an idea to focus on. Quite often it’s something good, and it reverts to reason 1.
In my head,  I invasion the cartoon of the two channels of my brain. One is writing this piece on my tablet. One gets bored like myself in childhood and looks around for something to focus on. I notice things. I see the carpet, the paintings on the wall,  the frames,  and maybe even the signature. 
I see the feet of the people around me at first, and then everything else. It chooses a memory of the Porn you watched earlier. Madison Ivy. 
What were we talking about again? 
Ph yes. Pain. 
If I dedicate one entire 24/7 channel to mental state and pain,  I literally lose half myself. I lose my second voice, which is the thing that balances me out. My filter, and conscience. 
I change. I react less. I complain. In my head at least I am not fun to be with,  and I lose my smile. 
Without smiles,  I have no energy.  No incentive.  No rewards. 
No pride points. 
This happens from time to time with any pain. It’s like a fire alarm so loud,  you can’t hear anybody talking.  You can’t work. 
Most times, it passes,  or you know it will. 
For the first time in over 30 years,  I live alone. I have nobody else to keep at least one brain entertained. Both are free to focus on the pain. 
I shut down. 
I am sad. 

Terrified. 

Alone. 
It’s is 327 am.  My shoulder is feeling better now that I have been sitting up for 20 minutes of writing.  Maybe I will find sleep now. 
The end.