Chronic pain | SavvySpoons

That is basically my new medical plan. For now at least. It turns out the fancy drugs they gave me to assist in fighting off the shadowboxer caused suicidal ideation. Long term use of opiates does the same thing for me, so I am used to randomly being ready to hang up the towel when my brain chemistry is altered by various medications.

So I called my doctor and used the magic words. “Dear Doctor So and So, I want to drop a piano on my head. Please advise”. I had an appointment the next morning where he took me off all my currents medications and started me on all new ones. He also ordered the following:

Go to sleep at the same time every night.

Wake up at the same time every day.

Eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner at about the same time every day.

Exercise every day.

Work at the same time every day.

He basically ordered a “Fake it ’til you make it” prescription. I started it yesterday. It was grueling. I wanted to fall asleep at noon, so instead I spent two hours cleaning. I ended up going to bed at ten. Ten took forever to get here.

So, today I woke up to get the kids to school. Stayed up after seeing them off, made myself eat a healthy breakfast, and am now sitting down to work. I assume someday this routine will reset my circadian rythyms and seem more natural, but for now, it feels a little like water boarding. I keep forcing myself to keep doing stuff until it’s time to go to bed.

Chronic pain makes me whiny. Whining is unpleasant to be around. Trust me, I am unhappy being around my own whining, but I have yet to determine a way to remove my own thoughts from my head without drastic ninja sword action.

So when I hurt really badly and I want to call someone to distract me or hang out with me or maybe bring me a silly movie you would think I would make that call.

I don’t because the following conversation happens in my head:

“I really hurt and feel like no one loves me anymore. Why doesn’t anyone check on me?”

“Well, they have lives silly, you should call them and see if they are available. Also, last time I checked none of your friends can actually read your mind.”

“But all I will do is whine, and all I have to talk about is this stupid headache, and who wants to be around someone who doesn’t have anything positive to say?”

“Your friends do, that is why they call them friends. Besides, they have positive things to tell you. It might help.”

“But they aren’t calling me. What if this is their subtle way of signaling that they are really tired of listening to me whine about chronic pain?”

“You are being ridiculous, I doubt any of your friends would be that subtle. Most likely they would simply ask you if you could see a therapist and talk about something else.”

“So now I’m ridiculous and whiny? No one wants to hang out with a stupid ridiculous whiny person. I’m just going to hide here on the couch, watch someone on t.v. fight fake monsters, and feel sorry for myself because no one loves me anymore.”

So I do.