Maybe if I take one more pain pill it will all be okay…
How is it that the same “medication” I was given to get better keeps me confined to my bed?
How is it that what was supposed to heal me feels like it is slowly killing me?
Why do I feel like I am slowly dying and wasting away when I do not take one more pill?
I feel so stuck and lost in my own mind.
I’ve never abused any opioid/narcotic in my life. Everything is tracked yet I feel like I have become an addict.
Am I addicted to the feeling of quick relief that these “medications” bring me?
They don’t solve my problem. In fact, they are just simply a far too small Band-Aid on a bleeding wound but maybe if I take one more, I’ll be okay.
Maybe one more will solve the problem and stop the bleeding.
I’m trapped inside my own body… damned if I do and damned if I don’t
If I take one more it doesn’t stop the wound from bleeding but if I don’t take one more the physical and mental pain is too much to bear
What am I to do?
Either way I feel like I am going to slowly waste away and die.
I fight as hard as I can, but I can only take so much pain before the anxiety starts to set in and I start to panic.
I talk to myself as I hold the bottles in my hand … I tell myself to try and not abuse the power I’ve been given but either way I feel out of control.
I feel like an addict who needs one more hit and they’ll be done but they know that that is a complete lie because they are stuck in this vicious cycle. Only difference is I didn’t necessarily put myself here… I was only following directions from those who were supposed to know better than me
I know they didn’t purposefully harm me and get me to this point. They took an oath to help and not harm me. They’re fighting hard for me, right?
I know they are. this is just my mind playing tricks on me.
Tricks I cannot bare to play along with anymore.
The more I try to fight the more lost I feel.
The more I feel like I’m losing the power I have. I’m stuck in a cage hanging above a body of water either I die from the withdrawals or I drown.
Either way I die. I die a slow and painful death.
I feel trapped inside my own home looking out a shattered glass window far too broken for repair.
These are the thoughts that I deal with every single day and night.
These are the feelings I fight when I don’t take one more and choose to instead go through the night sweats, chills, body aches, vomiting spells that feel like they’re going to kill me.
One more time being rushed to the hospital.
One more time I scream and shout in that cold room yelling from the physical pain I feel when that tourniquet is placed on my arm … setting off all my pain receptors. Setting me on fire.
One more hospital visit, and I’ll get my fix and I’ll be able to make it to the next day with just a little less pain.
One more fix and I’ll be okay.
One more and everything will be okay is what I tell myself knowing it is a damn lie.
Welcome to the life of a lifelong cancer patient left with disabling side effects.