A lot of time has passed since I started this blog. I remember it was right after I was let go from my last job that I decided to start writing again. Sharing my experience as a person in pain. The past few months have been a whirlwind. Victories, hurt, struggle and a lot of joy.

I got my pump removed on Feb 10th. What I thought was going to be a small surgery with minimal recovery turned out to be 2 weeks of immobility and continued issues with withdrawel. My Dr assured me that because my pump was at a trickle for the past 3 months that I would not experience any symptoms. I beg to differ. I was on a med, every day 24-7 for over 3 years. I don’t think you just go back to normal the day you stop taking the med. I know my body, I am paying attention. Needless to say every day it gets better. I am less emotional, less restless, I still have very little appetite but I am eating right. The pain however, without the pump or other meds has been very hard to deal with. Still, I am dealing.

My Mother, flew down to care for me during my surgery.She lasted 2 days. I expressed my frustration after waiting 24 hours that I needed a new tape. That the tape she was using was ripping my skin and pulling at my incisions. I got no sleep, it was hell but she felt cooking and shopping and meal prepping for her diet were more important than my care. So she left, while I was butt naked crying on the bed in the only position I could stomach, fetal. She took my car and enjoyed her time here in Cali by spending time with her best friend and my brother and his new baby. My brother never once called to check on me. My Dad never once called to check on me. And my Mom, well you get where I am going. My sister, who suffers from the same back pain I do, and my best friend who has her own kids and life, came to my home every day. To change my bandages, check my incisions, help me get dressed and eat, and just overall make me as comfy as possible. After three weeks I started to lose my mind and I slowly started making my way out of the house. Now I am approaching the 4th week and I no longer have on the binder or bandages. I am still caring for the incisions and being careful but my recovery is coming to a close soon.

So in the last few months, I have reconciled with my middle daughter, spoke to my oldest daughter, and best of all I made friends with my ex husband. The ex husband I’ve hated for the past 12 years of our divorce. Thats a LOT of fucking energy. I know what sparked it and I don’t care how it happened. I am just happy to have my friend back, and to co parent these teens. I’ve also started speaking out on my support for medicinal marijuana, as it truly has saved me through out this ordeal. I hid my pot use for years, mainly because I chose to work in the lives of others. What a hypocrite to work at a rehab helping women to be sober and I myself partake in pot daily. But its my medicine. Just as a diabetic needs insulin and babies need breast milk, this is what my body needs in order to fight back against the pain. The constant pain. I choose to smoke pot and not take a shit ton of meds. When has that EVER ended well for me?

Which brings me to the last news of this update. My drug test. Once again, my Dr gave me a medmatch form to do a urine screen. I know why, she knows why but of course it wasn’t said outloud. Now that I don’t have the machine in me anymore, she can discharge me. I know it and it scares me. But I refuse to give up medicinal marijuana. I’ve done it for too long and too many times. So I had to falsify my test, used someone elses specimen. When I say I had an anxiety attack while waiting to be called, I mean I wasn’t breathing. And then when the temperature wasn’t correct, and I knew my test would be invalid, I walked out of the clinic and threw up. My nerves were SO shot, I had to surround myself with friends for the remainder of the day and I am a private person. It blows my MIND that I have to go through this, just to get my little 30 norcos a month. So my choice? Not get the norco anymore. And on these days I have break through pain, bad flare ups, I will have nothing but weed. I don’t see an alternative, its the bullshit legal system.

So that’s the jist of my life in the past few months. I am no longer a cyborg, I am looking for work and I am out being social again. Life is good.