Down and Dirty(again and still)

Aargh! Roll this way and that, faster,faster…shake my legs, stretch-my back arching, muscles cramping….Then a few minutes respite, before the next wave of anguish hits me.

“What will it be this time?”, I muse, “The sweats, the chills, the nausea?”

My body answers swiftly with new cramps, this time deep inside my lower back. There is no escape. Not this time. The oxycodone 10/325 tablets I have been eking out to myself to soften the withdrawls from the fentynl are now officially gone…and the one patch I have left has to last me 96 hours. This, of course , is why I am now in agony. The “pain doctor” has even admitted to me that they know the topical fentynl patches are only really effective for 48 hours …but they refuse to prescribe them any more often than one every three days. Knowing that the suffering patient will suffer even more moves them not at all, they must appease the lawmakers.

It is my misfortune to have lost a patch, that is why I am in acute withdrawal now. My appointment is tomorrow, I will receive a new script, hopefully, unless they are really merciless… But I cannot fill it until the exact 30 days are up, hence my current dilemma .

I do not want to be dependent on this medicine anymore. I do not want to go through this physical cycle of brief relief then extreme discomfort ever couple days. I was able twenty years ago to get off of a huge cocaine and rock and alcohol active addiction that had lasted 23 years, from the time I was 13 to the age of 35. I was able to build a life out of the ashes of self destruction, and was working on my dreams when my past physical escapades began catching up with me…

Old injuries were raising their heads to scream at me, and I lost a dream job because of this. I was devastated, and my sobriety was nearly lost. After being diagnosed with Fibromyalgia my doctor took pictures of my painful places, and he was shocked to see the condition of my spine. I remember him coming in the room looking so sad, and taking my hand ever so gently while apologizing for the fact that he had been sceptical of my descriptions of intractable pain. I was only 35, but he said I had the spine of a 70 year old , and said that my injuries were as those of one who had been in a major car accident…

I then told him about my past , all the physical abuse I had endured, the violent assaults, the car accident, the bike accident and all the other crazy injuries from a life spent stoned. That was the day he prescribed a very mild opioid pain reliever…just a souped up aspirin, I thought… I know it seems so innocent now, but that was how this cycle began.

The medicine worked brilliantly, and I was able to function and go back to work! Yay! This time period was like a magical cloud, in retrospect, my mind never looking into a future of dependency. I wasn’t using drugs to get high, just to get well, so no worries, right?

(to be continued …)

Author: ST Martin

I am an Artist, Poet and Author. A Survivor of Violent Sexual Abuse and Rape, I have lived thru Severe Domestic Violence, Twenty Three years of Addiction and Alcoholism, Family Dysfunction, Chronic Pain, Dependence on Opioids, and 2 Venomous Snake Bites...I have Been Stabbed, Shot at, Tied to a Tree and Choked Unconscious. A Quarter Horse Rolled on Me, as did a Lawn Tractor. I also Wrecked a Harley into a Tree! I also have PTSD and Rapid Cycling Bipolar Disorder, and spent my 18th birthday in a Locked Psychiatric Ward. I am so much more than this: I feel like a tiny seed that sprouted in a desert, and now has grown into a Passion Vine. My Art is my Voice, Screaming, Crying, Praying, Loving, Laughing, Healing- all in Riotous Color...