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[Fox News doesn't have the copyright to the above for some reason...]
This should be short because I am damn tired today.
Why?
Because I went in to my doctor's today determined to make him deal with my body and limb pain. I wouldn't even say a word having to do with my head or headaches.
I also was determined not to get kicked out of another practice, so I knew I had to keep myself from yelling, and that meant a few tears would show up in my eyes as I described my pain and how nothing had been done about it and nothing at all seemed to be in the offing... Except physical therapy, which makes my pain a lot worse.
Lately I can't eat and it hurts to digest even water because it feel like I spend every day doing nothing but crunches. My stomach is all Alien-acid-infused muscle that surrounds a stomach full of thousands, millions of microscopic, circular razor blades.
Anyway, the doc knows all about my body pain. I've told him enough times. The fact that I no longer can eat or drink fluids should have had him worried, however.
And maybe it did. Because finally I was put on an IV (They wanted to do this last week). The nurse and doc wouldn't tell me what was in it because they wanted to see if it helped my pain, and by how much. As I was asking if the sauce was supposed to feel like lava in my bloodstream, I passed out.
When I woke up, it was easy to gather that the nurse and doctor were a little too self-satisfied -- I had come in saying I needed painkillers to be able to eat and drink (water) in large enough amounts to keep me alive. But I was proven wrong. Obviously, their IV had worked on my pain, or how else could I sleep?
Because the fuckers gave me a drip of fucking Benadryl, that's how. And you only give you or anyone else an antihistamine if they're having an allergic reaction and/or if you want them to stop annoying you (if it isn't given for pain, it's given to put people to sleep). I don't know why parents don't make use of copious amounts of antihistamine on long car rides...
So I woke up, came home, went back to sleep, woke up and am writing this instead of having dinner.
And, of course, my pain is right where it was before the Benadryl. (Point conceded: I needed the sleep. More important point: I need 24/7 pain relief you (Dr) scrotum toupee (toupees made with 100 percent all-natural human hair)!
The doc is off tomorrow, and I'm fine with not seeing him then. Hopefully it will give my psychologist's materials time to get to Dr 9. After he gets the psych's opinion, if I'm not put on painkillers it would be wise for me to quit the practice altogether and just order pills online or score smack on the street.
But I live with my parents, so none of that will be happening.
Fuck. Stay tuned to see how I get out of this corner...
[Pain: Intolerable.
Anxiety: Intolerable.
Hell: other people.]
PS: I can't say enough that everyone with fibro has a duty to make their doctors' lives as close to their own hell as possible until the docs finally gets to the point that, to make their own lives better, they have to improve yours. It's the only way fibromyalgians are going to get the meds we need.
We have to fight and scrape and claw to be the ones who define how fibro is treated while fibro is just coming into mainstream consciousness.
At the doctor's office, keep being an asshole. And if you aren't one, start now. No matter how nice your doc is -- Dr 9 is nice as hell, as far as his demeanor, all the while keeping me in a prison he could write a few words on his script-pad and set me free of (a malevolent fuckwit with a smile is still a malevolent fuckwit) -- if he or she hasn't gotten you as close to 100 percent pain-free as possible, he or she is an impediment, may as well be the one causing you the harm by not taking it away, and he or she doesn't deserve an ounce of respect or deference. Give none but what is required to keep you in the practice, receiving the best treatment you can until you can get better and better and better treatment. (Ask everyone and their double-secret cousin about doctors who are good with fibro or just plain loose with narc scripts.)
And nothing really works for horrible pain but narcs. Don't settle. Never settle, and never give in. Fuck what's convenient for your doctor, for the medical community -- when your every waking minute is agony, you deserve to be a little selfish.
And I know writing "I need narcs" a million times makes it look like I want narcs for their own sake. Well, maybe to those of you who took a nasty fall a while ago and didn't come back 100 percent from the concussion. I refer you, Concussion Charlies of the world, to the above description of my abdominal pain. And to all my other posts which, in some way, I'm sure, refer to my pain. The sad thing is these descriptions aren't exaggerations.
And Charlie, I wonder if a scrotum toupee wouldn't cover up your scar(s) nicely, while making you irresistable to women!
PPS: If anyone has experienced near-100 percent fibro relief from anything but narcs -- and if anyone writes me about the guafenesin protocol it goes right in the goddam trash unless it comes with a double-blind, controlled study proving its efficacy -- tell me about it.
If there were such a thing, I think all fibromyalgians would be on it though, don't you?
When what is, essentially, a cure, is found, the news can't be guarded by grizzly bears that protect the thing as though it was their own cubs.
Mixx it!
