I hate feeling like I’m a criminal asking for help with managing my pain. When I talked to the sports medicine doctor, I asked him for a referral to a pain management doctor, and he told me he wasn’t going to prescribe narcotics to me. It was him completely missing the question but also points to a problem with the American Healthcare System as a whole: its only solution to pain is prescribing more painkillers.
I have taken three 10mg Oxycodone pills in the past 24 hours.
Yesterday, it was because the pain was so severe after writing “Wheezing Out Pain” that rather than suffer through the heart problems I was experiencing, I decided it would be better to take one. It was too late past the pain to do anything productive with the rest of my day, so I spent the rest of the day trying to take my mind off of the pain and how any movement could potentially cause serious, debilitating pain.
This is all subjective, so I understand that it’s some loser junkie’s words I’m writing.
This morning, I woke up to severe pain. It took me 45 minutes to get out of bed. Even that number could seem subjective. Maybe I was being lazy? Who hasn’t wanted to hang out in bed rather than face the day? So I took the first pill this morning to help manage the pain symptoms. I just took another one because it’s been about four hours and I was still wheezing significantly and feeling significant pain.
I will keep fighting for as long as I can.
But it really feels like I’m fighting for my life at this point. I suppose it doesn’t matter all that much. I suppose that with time, we’ll figure out what’s going wrong, but this has been a terrible experience for me. I feel sick and I don’t have enough energy to cook food, and when I do, I try eating as much as I can but the food isn’t appetizing.
OK, this Oxycodone is kicking in now, I’m losing my concentration.
I wish there were some way for me to receive the treatment I need to get better, but it doesn’t seem like it’s possible at this point. I imagine that there is some problem deep in my body, somewhere, that needs to be ironed out. I don’t know how that can be done, and I fear it will never get figured out. I fear that I will be kicked around to more and more doctors than I already have.
Is there any hope for salvation for me?
Will I ever get better? Will I ever be able to do any of the activities I once loved, liked doing, or even thought about doing but decided against because they weren’t interesting. I can barely even walk to the toilet or my bed and I can’t gamble that walk without my cane now, since the sports medicine physical examination ruined any sense of tolerating my pain levels.
How can I even imagine doing anything physical right now?
It’s a dangerous headspace for me to get into thinking about questions like that. Sure, I can’t currently walk around the “minor forest” outside of “the apartment-mansion,” or the little foresty area behind my apartment, but maybe, in time, I could go wander around there as a sort of detachment from the digital worlds I find myself in most of the day.
I currently don’t have any interest in going for that walk.
What I would most like to do is have some period of time – maybe 30 minutes – where I don’t randomly experience such a negative pain sensation that I have trouble breathing. It would be nice to be able to focus on something, whether it’s watching a video or making my own video by recording some videogame thing, without worrying about my health. Not in terms of reckless behavior. Just in terms of existing without pain completely overwhelming my senses and distracting me entirely.
I think at this point that is too much to ask.
This pain is forcing me to confront my mortality in ways that I never thought. There is so much I would like to do that I know about, in addition to the things I don’t know that I want to do, and not in some sort of completionist, check-list-ian mentality, where I want to do it all. I just want to, for example, have some nice sushi and hang out at on a bench outside the library right now.
I can’t even imagine leaving my apartment right now.
I am writing this on Friday the 13th. I’ve never played the videogame or watched the movies, but I’ve considered these to be special occasion media to meander through. I would do this but like on Halloween, I didn’t have the physical energy to do anything like that. Compared to two weeks ago, I have significantly less energy today, which would lead me to believe that two weeks from now, I will have even less energy.
Will I be able to get out of bed in two weeks?
I don’t have the energy to get out of my apartment to drive to the mailbox, which is something I could have done three days ago when I last left my apartment. I should have done that, too, but all the bills I am being burdened by can patiently wait there until I am there next. I’m not asking for much. I’m not asking for the health to where I could walk over to the mailbox. Driving is fine.
I barely even have the health to sit here and write.
If I sufficiently distract myself for a sufficient amount of time, I can even pretend that I might be feeling well. That is until my body does something, like exist, that sends significant enough of pain signals to me to where I can’t help but focus on that.
Good thing I don’t have access to recreational painkillers.
|Sources: My personal experiences.|
|Inspirations: I thought of this title yesterday when I thought about how my pain management solutions are going. I thought of writing this essay yesterday, but I didn’t. If I’m being honest, for enduring so much pain, I was just happy to have some escape from that, so I didn’t prioritize writing as much as feeling good being alive.|
|Related: Sober Living essays and Tripping On [The American Healthcare System] chapters.|
|Written On: 2020 November 13 [12:41pm to 1:08pm]|
|Last Edited: 2020 November 13 [First draft; final draft for the Internet.]|