Pain Management is a lie.

Let me tell you my truths. I started pain management back in 2000 something. And here’s what I remember.

I remember passing out, in my car, at the bar, while watching TV. As if I was on heroin.

I remember face planting the wall, and passing out in front of my kids. I had a black eye for over a week.

I remember staying up, all hours of the night, chain smoking cigs and burning holes in my furniture.

I remember not remembering. Ultimately costing me jobs and affecting every area in my life. I would get in my car, and have no clue where I was going.

I remember the constipation. Going weeks at a time without a bowel movement. Sitting on the toilet praying to anyone who could help me, and stifling my tears so my kids don’t know.

I remember crying in the shower. Giving a break to the people in my life.

I remember the anxiety. The restlessness. The inability to find a comfortable spot. The feelings of isolation.

I remember the Dr appts. That made me feel like a criminal, a drug addict and not important.

I remember multiple attempts to fix my pain. Injections, procedures, meds, and I remember that hopeful feeling I would get EVERY time. That this time, things would be different. Better. But they weren’t.

I remember being kicked out of dr offices for asking too many questions.

I remember my kids seeing me at my worst while I was struggling to do my best.

And in all of this, what I DON’T remember, are days without pain. Because they don’t exist. And on all the medicine, either did I. It’s all a lie. They can’t fix me. And I refuse to die slowly.

Time.

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.

Gov. Jerry Brown Approves Medical Marijuana Regulations For California

 

Aa someone who suffers from severe chronic pain, I benefit greatly from medical Marijuana. Only in the great state of California, it’s illegal. I’ve lost doctors, gone without medications and been in extreme pain for my right and choice on how I want to treat my pain. I hope one day we are allowed to have medicinal marijuana and medication. For people like me, who have a lifelong of pain, it’s only right. I am not an addict. I’m just trying to survive.

The governor’s endorsement Friday of the legislative package hammered out by lawmakers was expected because his office crafted many of the details.

Source: Gov. Jerry Brown Approves Medical Marijuana Regulations For California

Battling my battles.

I made this page to chronicle the fights I have in my life. It seems like life in this busted body is a constant struggle. These aren’t issues I bring onto myself, but things attributed to my ailments. I am currently in the process of moving.   Again. Because this unit came with no working hot or cold water and my aching bones have to be able to take baths. The shitty part? The last complex had the same issue. I’ve had one hot bath in 2 years. And my body hurts from head to toe. They also put me in a unit that has construction feet from our windows 7 days a week. My anxiety is thru the roof. I haven’t felt this level of depression EVER. They weren’t honest when they moved us in so now I relocate to another unit which means in my broken state, I get to pack. I’m not an idiot, but when your on ssdi and doing everything to keep your kids in the same school district, with the limited income come limited options. I sleep on the floor. It still doesn’t excuse scum lords from taking advantage and I can’t sit by and not say anything.

I was just let go from my job. The job I’m not supposed to work because I’m in constant pain with 10+ spine conditions but ssdi only covers my bills, so a part time job helps feed my teens and pay for their clothes as I am on my own.  So there’s that. I was told it was due to not enough hours. I believe it was due to my memory issues. And just weeks before I was let go, I had my pain pump med changed from morphine to dialudid in an attempt to regain my cognition. It did give me some memory, but it put me thru weeks of sickness and loss of appetite. Still I sucked it up,told no one at my job and gave 100% . It wasn’t good enough. It never is. I’ve changed my entire career due to my disability,yet I keep on trying for my kids.

My 15 daughter decided to tell me yesterday she’s been unhappy for months,and wants to live with her dad. This is the first I’ve ever heard this. It’s actually the opposite,as she often complains about him and being there. The kicker? It happened after I took her phone for having bad grades. And after I told my kids I was considering moving to oregon because I felt my illness was infringing on their happiness. My daughter cried,and asked me not to go to Oregon. That she needed me. Apparently not.

Having a hidden disability sucks. You get misunderstood, and judged a lot. People tend to think your capabilities are that of a normal person. Why can’t I get the same support and treatment as someone in a wheelchair?  I’m glad for the few spoonie friends I have. They keep me going. And fighting back in Sac.

That’s it for today. I’ll live to fight more tomorrow. They say stay positive. If “they” only knew how much energy that takes.