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Tuesday, September 25, 2012


I had this fantasy the other day which I condensed and wrote about in my last post.  If only, right?

Well, I’m down to two methadone a day now….on Thursday I’ll go to one for three days and then hopefully, be done with it.   Still taking my breakthrough meds to help with the pain and the withdrawal.  And I have insomnia big time…again, probably the withdrawal.  This stuff is very hard to shake, and I’m going down faster then normal, but I have the patch and my breakthrough.

Now my nurse wants me to go out as long as I can tolerate it to test it.  I had a really good morning yesterday and Pam took me to the store, then I stopped at the library to return a book.  The day before I took myself to Half Price Books and got a book.   I was in tons of pain when I got home; 45 minutes was my best time.  Hope to improve on that.  In pain now, but may go out later.  We shall see.

In the meantime, no “Men in Black” came to my door to whisk me away and fix me.  So I keep meditating on what I am supposed to be getting out of this.  I know it’s something.  Something important.  But no one is telling me, even though I ask all the time (my helpers on the other side are mum too).

Things are quite boring in this neck of the woods.  I think about six months ago, when it really got bad and I could barely move and wanted to die all the time.  Then in August, I finally hit the rails and needed an ambulance to take me to the ER, spending 12 hours there and four days in oncology, in withdrawal because the pain doctor I don’t normally see screwed up.  How far I’ve come since then.  The bills are outrageous, but my job is to keep talking to them, making arrangements and letting them know Medicaid is my secondary now.  Yikes.

So I guess the lesson is not to make a permanent decision for a temporary situation.  Although my situation is far from temporary, the pain has eased as well as the bowels, so long as I stick to the plan.  But each plan only works for a week or two, and then I have to finagle another plan.  But I have the Restoral if I need it, although it didn’t work the first and only time I used it.  I think it’s because I had diareha the night before.  Silly me.

I still want to go HOME and badly.  But clearly, it’s not my call.  It could be, but here is what I decided. I want to be feeling “good” if I decide to end it.  I don’t want to be in a state of faithlessness or despair.  I want to be ready to be done with it, but NOT angry about it.  It’s counterintuitive, I know, but here is the thing:

The word “decide” is basically ending all other options.  Like “suicide” is ending your own life.  “Homicide” is ending someone else’s life.  “Genocide” is ending many people’s lives.  And so one.  So be mindful of what you choose.


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