When I bring my mother with me to appointments I don’t say much of anything because she talks NON-STOP. In this case, she talked about what a miserable beast I am. How nice of her. She must be tired of my furled eyebrows (“you’ll get wrinkles!”) and the sound effects I make when moving a certain way sends me into the incinerator. It really does suck and I’m sure watching a person exist in constant severe pain isn’t fun either. We’re empathetic creatures. The first few weeks following MC’s surgery almost killed my tear ducts. I couldn’t stand seeing him like that.
I’ve added hydromorphone to my personal pharmacy to take at night before bed and on the superbad days. Here’s the problem – it makes me extremely irritable, instigates headaches, and makes my gallbladder scream. It does work better than my old standby on the back and gut pain, so it has that going for it (and that’s why it was prescribed). The feeling of the stars aligning and slappy-happy-good times that some people get when taking opioids doesn’t happen to me. I just want to rip someone’s head off or cry. When I get it through an IV, these side effects don’t happen. What’s up with that? It’s the same drug. I guess when taken orally, it’s not as badass.
It’s the icing on my shit cake of depression. I’ve had some moments recently where the only thing I can think is that it’s over. I’m done. Nothing left to do, see, or be except a flat line. There hasn’t been anything abnormally bothersome leading up to it (disregarding, I dunno, the shit show ferris wheel of FML that I’ve been riding on for four months), it just happens. There aren’t even any other demeaning thoughts (“I’m worthless, I suck, I’m a burden”, etc) to go along with it. Just an overwhelming feeling that this is the end of the line (ride) for me. It’s bizarre. I blame the drugs. I suppose it’s of no consequence because I’m too tired to murder myself.
I did start working on fancy stitches. Something called a chevron flame stitch. I finished up the first block of it a half hour ago (I wonder why I’m tired?) and I’m missing one stitch. Damn it all.