Thursday, February 12, 2009
It took one more "pain flare," one more suicide-inducing torture fest!, to get me to lighten up and lighten the burden I put on myself. The last few days have been a battle of wills, my wills, deciding whether to crumble like a poisonous non-organic, non-vegan chocolate chip cookie or stay rooted, like the veggies I worship, in my mission to show this disease who is boss. Not only has my pain progressed, but so have the overt physical symptoms, which I have to say, frightened me way more than any spreading/worsening of firey pain.
Monday, I was sent home by my field instructor, an incredible, understanding, kind woman, after a wide-eyed stare at my gross looking feet and told to stay home Tuesday, which, thank the veggie gods, I did. It's always interesting to see the horrified looks on people's faces when they see my bare feet, as if I don't already know how bad this all is.
Monday and Tuesday were full of water works and supportive listening and hugs by my parents. My biggest fear is ending up in a wheelchair, which I would already be in if not for my opiates, and no amount of my magic pills could give me quality of life the last few days. This leads to the announcement that my father has already started the ball rolling on finding me a specialist who is well practiced in titrating methadone. Methadone, here I come.
No more psycho-student. I'm giving myself a break from here on out or else I will end up in a loony bin (I say that term fondly, as I am a mental health professional in training). I am almost positive this pain flare was stress induced because I have been going through a pretty traumatic and difficult personal experience beyond my disease. I just haven't written about it...
I'm running a support group today, so off to get prepared!!!