there’s an italian specialty store in my hometown town, we all call it ‘the pork store.’ for years, they were the only place for miles that sold authentic aged cheese and prosciutto and things like that. but they were unbelievably expensive. every year when we would start planning the menu for christmas eve dinner my mom would say we weren’t going back to the pork store. too expensive. and every year my dad would talk her into getting a block of parmigiano reggiano.
he would always say: ‘you only go around once, baby.’
i enjoy this logic. and i’ve absorbed it from him to an extent. in general, i’m quite open-minded about trying new things. but with one exception: i avoid drugs like the plague.
this isn’t a moral issue, nor am i about to preach about high ethics. i have never tried drugs because i know myself, and i know that i have an addictive personality. and if presented the chance, and if there is even the slightest risk that something can be habit-forming…i’ll get hooked.
and that’s why, 3 1/2 weeks after my surgery and now a week into this inexplicably excruciating pain, i’m starting to get nervous. the first few days post-surgery, i was on a steady and diligent stream of oxycontin and percocet. yet strangely, it didn’t seem to be doing a whole lot to dull the pain – that, plus the pain subsided immensely after a week or so. i weaned myself off the meds as soon as i could.
then this new pain started. and it’s not only worse than my surgical pain, but it’s also much more responsive to percocet. against my better judgment, i find myself taking the maximum dosage just so i can make it through the day without having more meltdowns than necessary. the pain is still there, but i don’t shake from it. i can move three inches to the right without having the air whisked from my lungs from the searing fire shooting through my leg.
i’ve been saying for the past week, since this new pain emerged, that i can feel myself fraying. the pain is awful but the mental exhaustion is even worse. i feel like nobody is listening when i tell them how much it hurts, and that it’s abnormal. i can’t handle being in this limbo for much longer; my mind won’t survive it.
the medicine at least brings some relief, makes me feel less fragile. i don’t dissolve into tears every fifteen minutes. i can at least turn to grab my phone without fear of a flare of pain so bad it will make me start to convulse.
and the fact that it brings that much comfort scares the crap out of me.