February 16th, 2011
After waking up at 6 a.m. for my extended release morphine and gabapentin, I went right back to sleep. I always feel so strange after I wake up from sleeping. As if no matter how long I slept, it is a new day. Yesterday I fell asleep shortly after mom left, and woke up at 9:45 p.m. and thought it felt as though the whole day was a full day away. As if somehow, at 9:45 p.m. a new day was starting. Strange, is how it felt. As though I were missing time. So when I woke up again this morning, I thought I had to take my morning meds all over again. I was incredibly confused as to why the morning meds were gone from Wednesday, but none of the other dosages (2 p.m. and 10 p.m.), and how I didn't have Thursday's out on my nightstand.
The pain in my hip was staggering. However I had slept, whether at night or since waking up at 6 a.m. apparently did not agree with my nervous system. It was that weird feeling like you just want to twist your leg at the hip joint to stretch out the muscles or ligaments and tendons or something- but at the same time, you know it won't feel better and just want to keep twisting until you rip it off. As if somehow the idea of a ripped off limb would feel better than the constant pounding of rebar through my hip. It's not even pounding, it's just a constant...... ...... ....... GAH finding words to explain it is so incredibly pointless.
Ok, there is a made for tv Alice in Wonderland movie that was on the SyFy channel. In the movie, they would take humans hostage and 'drain' emotions from them, distill them into liquid form, and then the queen of hearts would take them, distribute them, or sell them like crack cocaine. That in and of itself has absolutely NO relevance to my rant, except that I wish I could somehow 'drain' the pain, and give it to my old doctor's so they could see exactly what kind of pain I am in. So they would know what I am talking about and not just call me crazy.
Somewhere in the midst of my mind wandering in the morning, I decided I wanted cardstock. For those unaware, cardstock is just a thicker type of paper. Kind of a halfway meeting point between posterboard and regular paper.
At about 11:00 I asked mom if she could go pick up some cardstock for me at Wal-Mart. I can't remember what she asked me then, but I do remember the distinct feeling of "Oh Dear Lord, I better go myself." So I asked if we could just both go, and off we went on our grand journey of the day.
After passing the zebra (I'll write about him some other time), we eventually came to a stoplight. At the stoplight was this great old man, who in Alaska would look right at home, but here in Lynnwood.... he was COMPLETELY out of place. Great old Sourdough looking guy. Obviously one of those 'bush' guys that grows a lot of weed but pretends he doesn't, knows how to start a fire ANYWHERE, and even though you are pretty sure they don't have a vehicle, they somehow end up everywhere you go... even if it takes forty-five minutes to drive there. This guy was carrying an awesome classical guitar strapped around his front, and from the pegs hung a hot-pink monkey.
I shit you not.
And just like that, my day went from okay, to awesome.
At Wal-Mart, I got my cardstock in white, black, and primary colors, I got a new candle in the scent 'bamboo jasmine' and a small one of 'lavendar' to help me in my meditation and to relax. I also got a couple of small trash bins for my room, which I have greatly needed since I first moved in. One of those things I always remember at the wrong time. Well somehow, I remembered today and got just a plain black little trashcan with hooks to hold the handles of plastic bags.
When we got home, mom drew up a nice bath in the tub and helped get everything ready. Thank goodness too because I really needed a nice relaxing soak. There has always been something really special to me about being submerged in water. The feeling of being enveloped, almost like the water is giving you a great big hug. Maybe it's just the Pisces in me. The point is after getting out of he tub and back to my bed, dressed and warm, incredibly relaxed and uplifted.. the phone rang.
BUHN BUhn, buhn
It was Karen. She introduced herself as if I didn't know who she was or who she worked for. Immediately I was frustrated. She told me she was calling for two reasons. One to make sure and see if I was alright, and the second, to find out if I wanted to make a follow-up appointment to see her, and if I were going to continue with the pain service. I told her I was fine, and that no, I didn't want an appointment, and no, I wasn'g going to follow up with the pain clinic anymore. She asked who was going to be prescribing my pain medication. I told her noone, I wouldn't be taking them anymore.
WHAT? I could almost hear her mind getting confused as I said it. You mean, a pill junky stopping taking pills JUST like that???? Why would she do that? It doesn't make sense! Either she really is a junky, or she never was in pain, or... what if she wasn't a junky and she IS in pain?
Me thinks she is about 3 steps behind the whole picture.
Of course she had to "follow her duty again" and inform me that ".. didn't I know I would have withdrawals if I just stop taking them, I've been on such a high dose for so long.." I could only grunt "uh huh". Of COURSE I am going to go through withdrawals. For crying out loud REALLY? This isn't my first song at the karaoke bar you know. There have been times I have been out of pain medication and nurses at that same clinic have tried to make it impossible for me to get any medication, and I had already started withdrawals. But of course THAT wouldn't come to mind, no, my care at the SCCA has always been perfectly fucking STELLAR.
Stellar like the time they told my mom al I wanted was pain pills, and couldn't she see that? I had the pain pills with me and wasn't taking them, but of course that MUST have been the issue... It couldn't possibly have been how much pain I was in, and that the pain clinic refused to even acknowledge my pain, treating me like I'm a junky, and like my mom and best friend are just duped idiots. I must be REallY hard up for morphine, because how many junky's do you know who allow themselves to be poked and prodded as much as I have? I mean come ON?! I'd have to be one SICK individual!!
But I guess it is easier to think I'm that screwed up, than it is to think I might actually be in pain.
I don't understand it. But that's coming from the screwed up psycho in the corner. (Me).
No, I accepted that I would go through withdrawals and be stuck in extreme pain unless I find other ways to deal with the pain last thursday. The moment Karen said that the pain clinic was sticking with their opinion that physical therapy would be my cure-all.
Bitches. All of them. One day I hope they feel half as much pain as I feel every day. And I hope they have just as much trouble as I am getting help for it.
..... what? Me? Bitter? ........ just a little..... no, okay.. a LOT bitter.
Oh. 'Paranormal Acrivity 2'? One thumb up, one thumb down. Not as good as the first. Not only was scare factor not quite as there- but the first movie had me left with "Oh shit, that could happen to me!" and the second was more like "Idiot, who REALLY struck that deal with the demon for the first born son?" Although how the two movies tied together was pretty cool.
I also just finished watching 'A Tall Dark Stranger'. *sigh* It's not even worth talking about. If you want to watch it, watch it. If you don't, definitely don't. If you aren't sure if you want to see it or not, just.. do yourself a favor and pick a different movie. I feel like I just slept through that movie, and have just completely lost that time. And it wasn't even enjoyable.At least when I actually DO sleep I get... some sleep.. Wow. That was a sherlock moment right there wasn't it??