One cold and painful night, many many moons ago, I stood staring at the little white pain pill sitting on the counter top laughing at me. I needed the pill, for I was in pure physical agony of the kind only Fibromyalgia can deliver. But I lived on the pill in order to get through work and life and quite frankly, it sucked. I was moody, bitchy, short-tempered, nauseous and constipated. And those were my good days. There were days my pain was so bad I could not take enough to damper it and still expect to live. So on top of being moody, bitchy, short-tempered, nauseous and constipated I was also in writhing misery. Fire coursing through my extremities. There were days off of work where I simply could not take the pill that day, just could not take the side-effects, and condemned myself to lying in bed sobbing at the torturous injustice of it all for twelve hours straight.
Oh yes, that little oval Percocet and I danced every dance, boxed every match, battled every tune. When I was healthy prescription narcotics were something a person took for a short while after surgery or a car accident. Anyone else was thought of as "dependent" or sometimes more specifically "an addict". Judged and condemned without need for an explanation. So how on earth did I find myself at the age of 30 going through over 100 of these nasty little bastards a month? Me? How? I was a party girl in high-school and college but that was long behind me and this was certainly no party. I was an adult with a career and husband and a life full of promise and potential! At least before this pain started I was.
Well the more determined I became to not need the little white pill the more I needed it. Oh such a lose-lose situation, no winner allowed. One of my driving forces behind getting Fibromyalgia "managed" was to get off these suckers. I was living a dulled-out, vacant half-life but also needed to work to support myself. Believe it or not moody, bitchy, short-tempered, nauseous and constipated accomplished working a job far better than unmanaged Fibromyalgia pain did. And I learned a thing or two along the way. The more you take, the more you need. Narcotics create more pain receptors, actually increasing the pain. Hence the need for a larger dose, ie. addiction. I also learned when taking a medication prescribed for a condition by a treating doctor a person is not an addict. I was worried about this one so I asked my doctor. He asked me if I was breaking into cars to steal stereos to pay to obtain drugs illegally off the street. When I answered no he reassured me I was not addicted. I also learned living on them for the rest of my life would most likely severely compromise my internal organs and shorten my life. So I set about figuring out how to get off them. I don't take anymore than a few pills a month for severe breakthrough pain these days. Whenever I wake up the next day I thank God I don't have to live on them anymore. I also learned I would have never gotten here, not needing them, without them. They were part of the treatment plan that got me here. In so many more ways than one.
Thanks for joining,
Leah
