There really isn’t any decent way to get rid of pain, especially chronic pain.
When you sprain your ankle, the doctor gives you pain medication. It helps and then your ankle starts to mend. You might have a few pills left in the bottle and they sit in your cupboard until the expiration date comes and goes.
They did their job and after your ankle healed, you didn’t really see the need to take them anymore.
But when you are in pain each and every day, those pills become extremely important to you.
You start to count them. Ration them out. Think about how you will get more. Maybe a friend or family member can throw you a few. You start to put together a plan on how to beg your doctor to up the dosage and amount. Crying is an option worth exploring.
I know these things, because this is me.
You still smoke weed sometimes, but the street grade stuff has been making you tired lately, which you need no help with. You hope that the voters decide to legalize marijuana in your state of Ohio on November 7th.
You scour the internet, looking for natural pain relievers. You order 50 kratom pills for $18.99 (free shipping) and the most they do is give you an out-of-it feeling, which is better than nothing. You realize that the Klonopin your shrink gives you (in abundance) also produces that same numb feeling. Not as good as a narcotic, but at this point you will take what you can get.
Because feeling sick as fuck day in and day out really starts to gnaw on you after a while.
People will tell you to be tough, look on the bright side, be positive, eat a special diet that in all honestly is much too tiresome to follow. You will want to tell these people to fuck off, even though you know deep down that they are trying to help.
You want to tell people that you didn’t cause this disease to take a hold of your body. And that you have no fucking idea on how to get rid of it.
If I did, do you think that I would seriously still be sick on the inside?
You start to wonder, especially on the extra special bad days, if you’re going to be able to handle this wretched existence for another 20 or so odd years.
Then, you say fuck it and take a nap.
You smoke and eat candy, even though both of these things are bad for you. Because both bring you pleasure in a world that severely lacks it, so that trumps healthy living.
You praise the Lord above that you were gifted with another round of stable mental health and for sort of bringing back your sense of humor. It’s not like it used to be, but we know by now that things can change in a heartbeat. It gets more jaded as time goes by.
You are tired, so tired that no amount of sleep wakes you up, not ever again.
Your body isn’t as strong as it used to be and trust me, you can tell. Milk jugs need two hands to lift to the counter. I love when it gets to about half-way filled. I feel like the almighty Zeus.
But you also start to enjoy the little things. Like your dogs when they snuggle you, a nice conversation with a friend, a kiss from your significant other, a rare decent nights sleep or the sound of your mothers voice. These are things that you learn to cherish more because you now have the time to pay attention.
The next time that someone you know tells you that they have fibromylgia, I hope that you nod your head and say, “Yes, I know what that is. I have a friend that has it.”
And I hope that the person that you are referring to is me.