“There’s a hole in our soul, that we fill with dope.” ~ Marilyn Manson
This damned cold weather. I have to take something to take the edge off the pain, even if it’s a half a pill. My back and knees are killing me, and I can’t turn up the heat because Dennis thinks that it’s warm enough in here. There’s something about how I dislike taking medicine mixed with the bliss of being painfree, even if it’s just for a few minutes, that really seems to rub people the wrong way. Especially those online. I’ve had comments asking if I was a “fatso” because I have arthritis in my back and knees. So only morbidly obese women get arthritis before they’re fifty? Or perhaps people just think that being called “fat”, at 130 lbs, would be an insult to me. Well, maybe. If I was six inches tall. Or it’s that they’re mad that they don’t have the high levels of pain medication that I have. It wasn’t free, ya know! I had to get cancer, and have rotten teeth to get anything stronger than an aspirin! I really am hurt here, I’m not just joy riding on some fun drugs.
Of course there’s the possibility of another dance with cocaine or heroine.
It’s always in the back of my mind.
If the vicodin runs out, if Lance remembers he left his seconal bottle in my car, if my doctor gives up on me again, there’s the possibility of turning back to something harder, even if it’s just for that blissness of being pain free for a half an hour, mostly because I’d be passed out.
I have questioned why my doctor recommended physical therapy for broken lumbars, rather than cortisone shots or surgery. What the hell is exercising going to do to relieve the pain of a broken bone? If this were any other part of my body, I would be in a cast and on hard drugs. If I had a competent doctor, it would not have gotten to the point of arthritis. I have complained about this pain to my current doctor since April of 2008. It wasn’t until a couple of months ago that he decided to do anything about it, and then that was just x-rays to prove that I was lying to milk drugs out of him.
Lovely man, no?
But there is a part of me that doesn’t want to be on this medicine anymore. It has nothing to do with the social frowns at my use. I take it for the pain relief, and that’s all. It has to do with I don’t like not having control over my mind. When I take the muscle relaxers, I have trips that resemble LSD trips. I see designs, I can clearly see myself doing other things, when I’m actually still lying in bed. I stop breathing. I choke on air. I lose parts of my memory. It’s not as intense as what Byron gave me, but it’s still intense. Even Auz said he didn’t want anymore of those pills, that night.