These days I cannot help myself from the fantasy draw of laudanum.
I have watched From Hell a good four or five times in the past three weeks.
Read every novel I can find that involves an addiction (The Kitchen House is one I most sympathize with).
I am lost. I ache. I writhe. I am too sharp in this world and I cannot handle it well.
If only I could fade. Even slightly. For a time…
My doctor has recently stopped prescribing me any painkillers for the crippling side effects related to the ongoing malignant hypertension struggle. He states that they only cause more of a yo-yo effect. I understand where he is coming from, but the pain from this illness is so very difficult to handle with anything over the counter.
I cling to the remaining two bottles of painkillers prescribed in the past. But I keep swearing to myself that I must save them for when the pain is bad enough to have me crying. Which still happens too often.
I am given endless supplies of Phenergen and Ativan.
I admit to the occasional self-medicating with these. Anything to just make it stop.
The doctor is still focused on this fantasy of getting me surgery. But every single surgeon and anesthesiologist has refused to agree. They say I am too high risk.
But I can’t keep living as I am.
Next month I go for an in-depth sleep study to prove the neurological and physiological effects the illness has on me, especially during the night. We are hoping this will be hard enough evidence for some more drastic action.
Perhaps dosing me before surgery. My doctor has theorized about this possibility.
And I daydream about laudanum.