"The night air was fresh, addictive almost. She
took it in with long deep breaths, imagining
that she was drinking the darkness, tasting
the faraway twinkle of the stars. It was a
ritual for her, 3am and here she would be. Sat
on the old metal bench, flaked with rust, the
cold of the metal biting into her flesh through
the cold, cotton pajamas. She sat with her eyes
shut, her head tilted skywards, her body still,
breathing deep regular breaths, gorging
herself on the wind that swept through the
skeletal trees and caressed her skin with an
icy touch.
She would stay at most an hour, whatever the
weather, here she would be, indulging herself
in the cold and the night, drinking the night
air feverently, but never able to sate her
thirst. When she left, she would move languidly
at first, as if awakening from a trance, her
eyes focussing slowly on the grand old house
that was her home, her prison. The house was
faded, worn, crumbling apart on the outside
while the inside desperately clung to life,
just like her. But at 3am every night, she
forgot her pain, her worries and instead she
welcomed the purity of the night, the gaze of
the stars upon her ravaged body.
And every night, she wished the same wish,
that this moment would never end, that she
could stay forever in peace, cradled by the
velvet of the night sky, watched by the ancient
eyes that studded the darkness above.''
Wednesday, 12 November 2008
The bleak life on fentanyl
It's after 5am in the morning, and I have been wanting to update this, but my time online has been severely limited, by pain and by pain medications, which is ironic, I know. I don't know exactly why I feel the need to update, but maybe just a - ''hey, I'm not dead''.
I have some good news, but given this is predominantly a miserable post, I'm saving my good news for when it is official, as at the moment it is still unofficial. So, giving I can actually get on again soon, that will come. It is very good news, but not in any way associated to medicine or health. That would be too good to be true.
I have date to see surgeon on the 22nd of December. They can't trust my GP, they have to see me again. If they turn me down, I'll get the operation via the prison service, because I think I'll kill him. Hell, the prison service would probably get the operation done quicker. Yet another irony in life.
I'm on increased fentanyl, trying out 75mcg at the moment, it's ok, but not great. Will have it made official this week, then keep trying it. I'm hoping to not have to go to 100mcg, I'll be sleeping beauty by then, if I was beautiful that is of course.
I am so miserable. Words can't really describe. I spend days in bed. I want to get up and do things, and I can't - I'm either crippled by pain, or crippled by painkillers. I haven't seen my horses all week. Normally I see them at least once a week. I want to go tomorrow. But it's 5am, and I haven't slept. HUGE irony, as recently I've done nothing but sleep.
My Dad still worries I might just die, he's told me that - and I think it's some strange way of caring, or showing worry. But being told by someone that they think you might just die - and someone who is medically trained. It's not comforting. I'm not eating at the moment, the weight loss is terrific, but I get force fed at times, then I'm sick as can be. I can't win when it comes to food.
I've also had a massive infection in my mouth, starting with a so-far unidentified tooth, that has spread to the facial nerve (right hand side). I'm on my second course of antibiotics for it, and thankfully it's shifting. But my whole face has been in agony - my right eye, my ear, exploding in white hot pain. And yet more irony - why do my painkillers work on my gall bladder but ignore that? I'm back at the dentist in another week or so to try and find out which tooth went into meltdown. I also caused an ulcer/infection because of scrubbing at my teeth to try and relieve the pain, it worked, for around 10 minutes each time on the first night the pain hit. And it was worth it for 10 minutes. But it did cause another infection, separate from the infection that is deep in a root/nerve. That infection is sorted now, thankfully.
I am lonely, spending most of my life asleep means that no one really talks to me. And still, friend wise, I've no one jumping forward to talk. I know everyone is busy with their own things, but hey, I'm nearly in my 5th year of illness, I'm starting to get selfish about friends. It has improved, marginally with one of my friends, but again, I think I now no longer fit in. I may be at a stage where I just have to face facts and say Ok, I don't have any friends, but that's OK. I mean really - this entire year, I've had no friends be there for me. It's been Paul, and Paul alone. I'm trying to claw back what I once had with people, but time has went by too much for it. I'm too bitter. I forgive, easily, but I don't trust easily. And I feel like I've had trust broken, by having pretty much all my friends forget I'm alive. I don't think I can get by that, I'll always remember that the times I needed friendship - and times when I near enough begged for friendship, my friends weren't there. I suppose I should just be glad that I'm not inclined towards suicide thoughts, and really needed friends to help me, because I'd be long buried by now.
My life moves at a sedate pace, I do nothing. I watch TV - a recent habit, I was never big on TV, but now - unable to use the net much (due to the position I sit with laptop) - NOW I watch TV. I watch crime dramas, cartoons. I read, but the words blur, and I fall asleep, but still I perservere. I'm on a crime kick just now. And I play my DS.
I still have little to no money, I am waiting on a date for my tribunal. I do now have good evidence in my favour, but it's all too much to go into just now. Too complicated, too miserable.
Anyways. I'm not dead. That being a good thing is still debatable. I miss my online friends. I miss fluff, and hate missing out on all the things in fluff, and also the point of not playing thus having no gold to buy the new things. It's a silly thing, but upsets me (yes, I know, I have other things I should be upset about, not fluff). I guess I'll play catch up. My laptop refuses to run Webkinz most of the time now, my webkinz are abandoned. I hate that. I miss them so much. I ''saw'' them at the weekend, briefly on Paul's computer.
But good night, good morning. Good whatever, it doesn't matter anymore. I sleep all the time, and weekdays no one really gives a damn about me, so what I do or don't do have no consequence, which goes for online life too.
After I post this, I'm posting a very short fiction scrap I wrote, I may use it in a real story. But I penned it in my head when standing outside on our porch at 3am while the dog peed. And I think my own thoughts got into it as well. For the purposes of the short scrap, I imagine the ''she'' in it to be suffering from skin cancer, a disease that eats away from the outside in.
Take care
I have some good news, but given this is predominantly a miserable post, I'm saving my good news for when it is official, as at the moment it is still unofficial. So, giving I can actually get on again soon, that will come. It is very good news, but not in any way associated to medicine or health. That would be too good to be true.
I have date to see surgeon on the 22nd of December. They can't trust my GP, they have to see me again. If they turn me down, I'll get the operation via the prison service, because I think I'll kill him. Hell, the prison service would probably get the operation done quicker. Yet another irony in life.
I'm on increased fentanyl, trying out 75mcg at the moment, it's ok, but not great. Will have it made official this week, then keep trying it. I'm hoping to not have to go to 100mcg, I'll be sleeping beauty by then, if I was beautiful that is of course.
I am so miserable. Words can't really describe. I spend days in bed. I want to get up and do things, and I can't - I'm either crippled by pain, or crippled by painkillers. I haven't seen my horses all week. Normally I see them at least once a week. I want to go tomorrow. But it's 5am, and I haven't slept. HUGE irony, as recently I've done nothing but sleep.
My Dad still worries I might just die, he's told me that - and I think it's some strange way of caring, or showing worry. But being told by someone that they think you might just die - and someone who is medically trained. It's not comforting. I'm not eating at the moment, the weight loss is terrific, but I get force fed at times, then I'm sick as can be. I can't win when it comes to food.
I've also had a massive infection in my mouth, starting with a so-far unidentified tooth, that has spread to the facial nerve (right hand side). I'm on my second course of antibiotics for it, and thankfully it's shifting. But my whole face has been in agony - my right eye, my ear, exploding in white hot pain. And yet more irony - why do my painkillers work on my gall bladder but ignore that? I'm back at the dentist in another week or so to try and find out which tooth went into meltdown. I also caused an ulcer/infection because of scrubbing at my teeth to try and relieve the pain, it worked, for around 10 minutes each time on the first night the pain hit. And it was worth it for 10 minutes. But it did cause another infection, separate from the infection that is deep in a root/nerve. That infection is sorted now, thankfully.
I am lonely, spending most of my life asleep means that no one really talks to me. And still, friend wise, I've no one jumping forward to talk. I know everyone is busy with their own things, but hey, I'm nearly in my 5th year of illness, I'm starting to get selfish about friends. It has improved, marginally with one of my friends, but again, I think I now no longer fit in. I may be at a stage where I just have to face facts and say Ok, I don't have any friends, but that's OK. I mean really - this entire year, I've had no friends be there for me. It's been Paul, and Paul alone. I'm trying to claw back what I once had with people, but time has went by too much for it. I'm too bitter. I forgive, easily, but I don't trust easily. And I feel like I've had trust broken, by having pretty much all my friends forget I'm alive. I don't think I can get by that, I'll always remember that the times I needed friendship - and times when I near enough begged for friendship, my friends weren't there. I suppose I should just be glad that I'm not inclined towards suicide thoughts, and really needed friends to help me, because I'd be long buried by now.
My life moves at a sedate pace, I do nothing. I watch TV - a recent habit, I was never big on TV, but now - unable to use the net much (due to the position I sit with laptop) - NOW I watch TV. I watch crime dramas, cartoons. I read, but the words blur, and I fall asleep, but still I perservere. I'm on a crime kick just now. And I play my DS.
I still have little to no money, I am waiting on a date for my tribunal. I do now have good evidence in my favour, but it's all too much to go into just now. Too complicated, too miserable.
Anyways. I'm not dead. That being a good thing is still debatable. I miss my online friends. I miss fluff, and hate missing out on all the things in fluff, and also the point of not playing thus having no gold to buy the new things. It's a silly thing, but upsets me (yes, I know, I have other things I should be upset about, not fluff). I guess I'll play catch up. My laptop refuses to run Webkinz most of the time now, my webkinz are abandoned. I hate that. I miss them so much. I ''saw'' them at the weekend, briefly on Paul's computer.
But good night, good morning. Good whatever, it doesn't matter anymore. I sleep all the time, and weekdays no one really gives a damn about me, so what I do or don't do have no consequence, which goes for online life too.
After I post this, I'm posting a very short fiction scrap I wrote, I may use it in a real story. But I penned it in my head when standing outside on our porch at 3am while the dog peed. And I think my own thoughts got into it as well. For the purposes of the short scrap, I imagine the ''she'' in it to be suffering from skin cancer, a disease that eats away from the outside in.
Take care
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