Back when I was first diagnosed with Ankylosing Spondylitis I was offered an endless plethora of opiates. It was a veritable buffet of vicodin, oxycontin, and many others.
I had pain. It was the result of an incurable, degenerative illness. My pain was only going to get worse. Take these pills. It's the best we can do.
And I took them. And I loved them. And I quickly realized that I loved them too much.
And good thing too. It turns out millions of Americans were also being offered these drugs at the time. Opioid prescriptions and subprime loans: what wonderful times 2008 was.
Luckily, I quit cold turkey and only had to suffer for a few years with untreated pain before Colorado legalized medical marijuana.
And since then, that's been my drug of choice.
But this past week or so, my pain has been excruciating. Especially in my lower back. My anxious mind immediately thinks that this must be spinal fusion and I have already reached the stage where I will need a cane to walk.
Probably not true.
But it's not like I can get in to see a doctor and get the MRI I need to verify it's not the case.
But the pain has been horrible.
There is no position I can be that is comfortable.
It's kind of brutal.
So the woman I sleep with sometimes offered me a few pills.
She had recently bought some Oxycodone from her brother. Not to use them herself, but just because he was hard up for rent and needed the money (the pandemic is hard for drug dealers too, I guess).
I took two from her.
And I'll tell you, the last two days have been fucking blissed out.
Not only no pain, but also a real chill motherfucking mood.
Often during these last 48 hours, I've thought about asking her for more. I'd be willing to pay for them. Shit, I wonder if her brother will sell me his whole bottle. Hell, I do have a degenerative disease that causes chronic pain, I bet I can get my own prescription still.
But this morning, feeling all jittery and irritated with such itchy skin, I remember why I had to stop.
Because all I want right now is another fucking pill just so I can stop the vibrating in my brain.
I just want to feel good again.
Such a dangerous path. Such a slippery slope.
I have to tell myself that how I am feeling now—jittery, irritated, my pain throbbing throughout my whole body—is better, is preferable, to the diminishing returns of bliss that come from such a devastating and addictive substance.
The other day, out of the blue, my sister-in-law told me "please don't ever do heroin."
I didn't need to ask her why she felt the need to tell me that.
I only wondered how she knew I had been thinking about it as much as I had.
I won't. I can't.
Because I know how much I'll like it.
Because I know that in my weakest moments, like right now, the empty promise of a life without pain, even just a few moments with that kind of bliss, can feel worth far more than the entirety of my life otherwise.
Because I would easily throw away everything if it meant truly feeling nothing.
Lesson learned. I am going to stick with cannabis and ibuprofen for now.
I am grateful for the clarity that comes with a cloudy hangover
11:21 a.m. - 2020-05-08
Recent entries:
Feelings - 2020-08-06
Two Posts in as Many Days? I Must be on a Spree or Something. - 2020-08-03
Too Emotionally Soft for the Apocalypse - 2020-08-01
Finding my own voice in the wilderness - 2020-07-03
Looking Back - 2020-05-11
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