Saturday, November 10, 2007
"Please God, please, just make the pain go away for just a little while, please?" I implore in a whisper between muffled sobs. I'd done my best to mask my pain from my children all day but by 4:30pm it was all too much. I put my hand over my face to hide & wiped the tears away as coverly as possible before they could streak down my face. The heating pad had lost its magic; no position was comfortable; I spent the day vascillating between chores & idle time - nothing made an improvement in the pain. On top of it all, an IBS flare! My heart has been on overdrive, pounding fastly and I've tried moderating my breathing patterns to get through the pain, but the symptom continues on anyway.
My 18 yr old son showed compassion & concern, it was a welcome surprise, but his 17 yr old sister gave me the usual 'oh brother' attitude.
There is nothing anyone can do. I'd asked my doctor if I could discontinue my narcotic pain med since I felt it did nothing for me but cost $ & give me another pill to swallow. I'd tapered off, but now, this flare & nothing to help it. My surprise was my doctor's unwillingness to prescribe anything else in place of the pain med which had failed me. I was told by phone by her nurse, "She says it's to be expected." In desperation I take my bedtime medicine and and a panic attack med at 5:30pm, hoping something will take me away from the insurmountable pain, even if it's only a brief bit of sleep.
My appointment with the local pain clinic isn't until the end of this month and this was only the 5th of the month. I had briefly contemplated whether inflicting other pain upon myself would at least transfer the sensation to a localized area & give the rest of my body a short respite. Too bad there is no $ for more tatoos or to go skydiving & my fibro-fog mind could "forget" to pull the cord. Anything, even death, must be better than this.
I think of treasured memories from my children's past, of my own as well: falling in love, having my children, beautiful, breathtaking places I've been. Then suddenly the good memories accidentally shift back to my daughter's disbelieving & uncaring attitude & my husband's latent resentments. Then I hear the laughter of my younger ones in the other room. I had retreated to my bedroom where I could sob & beg God for just an ounce of relief, just a few moments to catch my breath so I can continue on. Do I dare try to reintegrate myself into my family now that I've stopped crying? Am I even wanted?
It all meshes together in a mis-matched ugly tapestry, with pretty colors showing through here & there if you take the time to look long enough.
My nose is stuffy from crying, my lips dry & no longer quivering. The statistics on suicide of chronic pain sufferers seem they must be grossly under-reported.
At least the IBS has stopped. Now if this damnable right eye twitch would stop, a whole day of that is more than enough. 22 or so more days before the appointment I've placed all my hopes in. I wonder which will come 1st, that or my death? I try to bravely continue on although I'm not sure if it is better or worse for my family's benefit.
My 18 yr old son showed compassion & concern, it was a welcome surprise, but his 17 yr old sister gave me the usual 'oh brother' attitude.
There is nothing anyone can do. I'd asked my doctor if I could discontinue my narcotic pain med since I felt it did nothing for me but cost $ & give me another pill to swallow. I'd tapered off, but now, this flare & nothing to help it. My surprise was my doctor's unwillingness to prescribe anything else in place of the pain med which had failed me. I was told by phone by her nurse, "She says it's to be expected." In desperation I take my bedtime medicine and and a panic attack med at 5:30pm, hoping something will take me away from the insurmountable pain, even if it's only a brief bit of sleep.
My appointment with the local pain clinic isn't until the end of this month and this was only the 5th of the month. I had briefly contemplated whether inflicting other pain upon myself would at least transfer the sensation to a localized area & give the rest of my body a short respite. Too bad there is no $ for more tatoos or to go skydiving & my fibro-fog mind could "forget" to pull the cord. Anything, even death, must be better than this.
I think of treasured memories from my children's past, of my own as well: falling in love, having my children, beautiful, breathtaking places I've been. Then suddenly the good memories accidentally shift back to my daughter's disbelieving & uncaring attitude & my husband's latent resentments. Then I hear the laughter of my younger ones in the other room. I had retreated to my bedroom where I could sob & beg God for just an ounce of relief, just a few moments to catch my breath so I can continue on. Do I dare try to reintegrate myself into my family now that I've stopped crying? Am I even wanted?
It all meshes together in a mis-matched ugly tapestry, with pretty colors showing through here & there if you take the time to look long enough.
My nose is stuffy from crying, my lips dry & no longer quivering. The statistics on suicide of chronic pain sufferers seem they must be grossly under-reported.
At least the IBS has stopped. Now if this damnable right eye twitch would stop, a whole day of that is more than enough. 22 or so more days before the appointment I've placed all my hopes in. I wonder which will come 1st, that or my death? I try to bravely continue on although I'm not sure if it is better or worse for my family's benefit.
