Posted by floatingbridge on October 7, 2010, at 15:30:35
I was clearly told never to take more than 5 tramadol tablets plus one ultram er per day under any circumstance. That was agreeable. It worked. Then it started not to work so well. For the last week I've been taking 9 tramadols per day. For two of those days I've needed to add some norco back, which I had been free of for sometime.
To my credit, (only a small amount of
credit, let's say *proactively*) I told my physiatrist today. Really, could I hide doubling the dosage? Not that hiding feels good. In fact it stinks to lie.He did not shame me or label me. He was firm, disappointed but did not say so, and said clearly the medication isn't working. What I didn't understand was that he said I needed to come to terms
with my life, stop beating myself up, stop using pills to push myself to function.Since you don't really know me, crying comes pretty damn easy to me. Too easily, like some poor whipped dog that is both truly miserable and rolls over and pees on herself. My humiliation and
despair, fear, and desperation. How do I do that I asked. How? I have a kid. I have to live. I have to have a life. What do I do? I need help.He's a physiatrist. I told him I knew I didn't come here for that (I have
ruptured discs); I mean I'm doing everything I can not to break down in his office. Clenching muscles. Holding my breath.So he asks me again, for the 20th time, what type of pain. Again I start: hips,
back, then legs. Engulfing. Then maybe arms, neck, shoulders, hands. Finally, jeez, I thought I told him: the pain and the fatigue are beginning to couple.
They come on together. I can't figure it out. It's like being knocked down like a wave. I can't get out of bed. I sleep
through dexedrine which on a stack of any holy book of choice I have not abused.What had happened to me? Who am I? What have I become? I don't know how I am going to live. I never wanted to take pill after pill--who does? And then taking more than I should is like the stupidest form of denial. A freakin' tightrope wslk every day. When I do have free time, I can't sit up at my loom. I love
weaving. I love so many things. So I'm
uthinking, wow, I can feel love, desire,
want to do things. So I'm not depressed as much. But cr*p I can't get out of bed sometimes.So he's thinking cymbalta or savella. Cr*p. I see a *good* rheumy next week.
My rock of a pdoc is leaving three weeks and says not to change meds while he's away. I do see him next week.
Right now I feel just about everything except good. I feel desperate and
scared.Someone please tell me that I will look upon this time more positively within a year?
I had a dream last week. I was a child clinging to my mother's neck. The sky was red and flame-like. Why I asked her, why were we born. She remained as non-responsive in the dream as she so often did in life.
MDD currently controlled. C-ptsd and comorbid health concerns. Chronic fatigue.
poster:floatingbridge
thread:965018
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/20100926/msgs/965018.html