The pain management doc gave me a breakthrough pain med for the first time, because of the new diagnosis. It’s more morphine—just an instant-release version, this time. Sam got it filled for me yesterday.
I didn’t expect a huge difference, honestly. It’s the same thing I’ve been taking, right? At a quarter dose, even!
Wow.
There were a few hours there where I wasn’t aware of any pain but the neuropathic stuff. I can’t begin to explain how different that is. On my personal pain scale, 1 = absence of pain = “mythical.” The last month has been full of 8s.
I was extremely nauseated and nearly passed out in the middle of Fry’s, but I wasn’t in horrible pain. I’m still feeling better than usual, over 12 hours later, partially for having slept better.
I have 29 more of those tiny pills, and they’ll be stretched out as long as I can make them last. They’re worth more to me than diamonds right now. I begin to understand why addicts “doctor shop” and scheme to get more prescriptions if their doctors refuse them.
Heck, I’m starting to understand addicts, period, in a sense. I’ve gone off the morphine, cold turkey, several times now. Other than having the pain back full force, and experiencing increased anxiety because of anticipating that, I haven’t had any side effects—certainly nothing one could call “withdrawal.” I could get psychologically addicted, at the very least, to these little miracle-working pills. And that scares the hell out of me.
