Tag Archives: pain

The pain of painkillers

The strongest painkiller I will take these days is Aleve. But yesterday even that wasn’t working. I actually decided I would take something stronger, but after holding the pill (Dilaudid) in my hand for 10 minutes I just could not do it. I felt like taking it would be admitting defeat even though logically that doesn’t make sense.

Supermoms are not supposed to need narcotics to help ease their pain. We are not supposed to have any pain that can’t be cured with a hot bath and a cup of tea. Life kind of gets in the way of that sometimes.

I didn’t used to be opposed to pain pills. Quite the opposite. Now I know you are thinking addiction, but I had this whole speech about addicts needing the meds for the high, and people who are in pain need the meds to cure the pain therefore it’s not an addiction. I have reached the point that I believe perhaps I was wrong in some ways.

Here’s the back story. 8 years ago, almost to the day, I was 2 months pregnant with my littlest prince. From one second to the next I went from just mildly nauseous and bloated to the most unbelievable agony I have ever experienced. My back went out. Totally and utterly. Rushed to hospital, on morphine while pregnant, tests upon tests upon tests. I was discharged a few weeks later, on bedrest the rest of the pregnancy (so tough with 3 little kids underfoot) with no answers. I spent the next few years in abject agony with my back, going from doctor to doctor, getting diagnoses that didn’t help – fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue, herniated disks, disk degenerative disease, one doc told me to just go to the gym and make friends and I will feel better. I did acupuncture and went to an osteopath. Nothing helped. NSAIDs and cortisone shots helped for a bit, but not long term. I was in pain and miserable and no one was willing to help me.

Until I found the right kind of pain specialist, one who looked at the whole ME and not just my back. After trial and error we hit upon a strategy that gave me my life back. I was put on Oxycontin, a strong narcotic. I had to take a dose every 12 hours in order to keep the pain at bay. It was tightly controlled by the doctor, and I was closely monitored. But I was able to function without chronic pain being my first thought of the day, and my last thought at night. I was able to be a mom for the first time in a long time. Yes I still had limitations, I wasn’t pain-free. My pain went from a 10 on 10 to perhaps a 5. And I could live with that. I had break-through pain, and I had pills for that too.

While still in pain and on medication, divorce proceedings were started. As most people who have been though all of that, you know that stress exacerbates all your aches and pains and sometimes brings you new ones. Even though for some time I had wanted to get off the oxy, that wasn’t the time. I hated being dependant on a medication like that. my life wasn’t in danger, I was just in pain. I didn’t need to take this medication to live, or did I? After taking it for so long I was no longer sure why I was taking it. Did it improve my quality of life, or was I too reliant on it?

A defining moment came, when I mistakenly took too much. I had all my pills in a pill organizer and that morning I took the pills from the wrong day. Later, thinking I had forgotten to take my pills that morning, I took more. Within an hour I realized my mistake. I called the doc and she said not to panic, that I would be fine, high, but fine. The pills would work their way out of my system and I would be back to “normal”. I called a friend to come take care of the kids because I knew I could not. And boy was I high! I had never gotten high in my life before that and never will again. It scared me. I was floating, and rabbitting on about insane things, making weird comments, and I was not in control! I hate not being in control.

It was after that that I decided that I had to get off the painkillers. I made a decision to accept whatever pain I was in, take advil or aleve, and get through every day as best I could.

I went to my doctor, explained to her that I wanted to stop taking the meds NOW. She explained to me that if I just stopped cold turkey I would go through withdrawal. I said that that was just for addicts, and I was not an addict. Even though I was taking it for medical purposes, not recreational, my body was used to having it in the bloodstream. So to just stop would send the body into withdrawal no matter why I was taking it. So over a period of months we slowly weaned me off the oxy. I had wanted an immediate withdrawal, but that wasn’t possible. It also meant learning new ways to deal with the pain from what was determined to be 2 herniated disks and sciatica.

It took 3 months of slow weaning, but I did it. I was narcotic free after almost 3 years of being a slave to a drug that helped me have a better life. Do I miss it? Heck no! Does my back hurt still. It does indeed, but my attitude has changed. I live with chronic pain. It’s a fact of my life. It does not define who I am. I will not allow it to interfere with how I live my life. Not now, not ever.

I was still left with Oxycodone (generic name is Supeudol), a short acting narcotic, for when the pain gets really bad. I used to take a whole one of 5 mg. Recently my back was especially awful and I took a quarter of a pill and I will never take it again. Just that tiny little piece played with my head. My body has gotten so used to being without narcotics that even the smallest dose makes me feel weird.

So yesterday, when my pain was really bothering me and Aleve didn’t do much, I wanted to take something stronger. I had told myself that taking one pill won’t ruin months of hard work but I still felt that it would be wrong for me. So I resisted. I took a hot bath instead and went to bed with a book and relaxed.

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The Silent Pain

To the outside world she looks normal. More than normal. She’s beautiful, shapely, has long flowing hair that she takes great care of. Her smile lights up the room. You watch her walk in her 4 inch heels, and you just cannot keep your eyes off her. Her hips sashay in just the right way, and her posterior attracts the attention of all the males in the room. She is just perfection itself. The green eyed monster grabs hold of you and in that instant you hate how perfect she is, how she has everything that you want.

Look closer. Look in her eyes and tell me what you see? Do you see her self knowledge of how wonderful and gorgeous she is? No? Look again. What is it that you see in those hazel eyes?

They look sad, you say, surprised. You are confused. What does this amazing womanly woman have to be sad about? Every male eye, every female eye in the room is on her. She has us all spellbound with her magnetism, yet, there is something in her eyes that is heartbreaking.

Your soul wants to reach out to hers, to comfort it, to understand what it is that haunts her so much that it leaks out of her eyes. You go up to her and say hello, and look deep into those lusciously fringed eyes, and she knows. Immediately she senses that you see deep into her soul, and she forcefully closes her eyes, but not before you see the depth of her pain.

You both sit down, and you reach out to hold her hand in yours. Tell me, you say silently, tell me your pain. I will share it and help you carry it. Slowly she opens her eyes, and you almost want to look away as the intensity is too much to bear.

You see the pain of deep loss, you see the pain of abandonment and loneliness, you feel her failures and triumphs – and the fact she mostly had no one to share them with, you feel her love for her children, so sure so strong, yet you feel her fear of not being around for them, of not raising them well, of letting them down. You experience the profound loss of the man she loved. You feel your own heart filling up with the knowledge that this woman had such a wonderful gift and capacity to love so strong and so deeply, and you feel it break with the feelings of heartbreak and emptiness when that love was ripped out of her heart.

Now you are the one that closes the eyes, against the glimpse of a soul that is crying out for comfort. Such a lesson you learned in a short space of time. This perfect woman does not have it all. She suffers like everyone else, she has hopes and dreams, has loved and lost. She is no better than you or me, her mask is just better looking. Tonight she gave you a gift, the gift of knowledge, the gift of looking deeper within and not judging a book by its cover. Never again will you jump to conclusions about who is happy and who is not.

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