{{{Gud}}} I don't have anything to add to all the advice/questions people have already posted, but I hope things improve for you soon.
To be all mememe, can someone convince me that life isn't quite as crappy as it feels right now? I know a lot of this is just back pain and heat talking, but I'm convinced I'll never get a job interview and never sell a novel, that my back will hurt me till the day I die of whatever the megadoses of ibuprofen are doing to my kidneys and/or liver, and, what's more, that I'll always be fat, frumpy, and ugly, with stupid hair.
This isn't panic-angst, BTW, just a sort of bone-deep weariness over being in pain, and rushing to the phone every time it rings only to find the local calls are DH calling to say hi and the long distance ones are people who want me to donate to something, and seeing someone on a writing list squee over finaling in a contest I'm entered in, which tells me I struck out yet again, and if I can't even final in these contests in which a good chunk of the entrants don't know how to write smooth, grammatical prose, who am I to think an editor or agent will like me, etc.
I'm just grumpy and discouraged is all. And I do have stupid hair at the moment.