A Day In The Life Of….
I feel so …… Broken.
I awoke this morning from a dream mixing tropical sands, the smell of poppies, and the love of my Most Needed Person.
And I wanted to cry.
The very first thing I noticed was a searing pain in my left side when I drew my first conscious breath. I reached to feel it and discovered that apparently someone had broken all of the fingers on my right hand in my sleep. And my left as well.
Sometimes being numb can be a blessing. I almost wished for a moment that I couldn’t feel them at all. It was all I could do to press against my balled fists of agony to roll myself out of bed and onto feet apparently embedded with shards of glass.
The day was NOT starting well.
I had crashed around 10pm, and awoken around 1:30 am. Pretty standard stuff. My Lovely awakened at around 3:30am with a pinched nerve in her shoulder, and so we spent around 45 minutes getting that back under control so she could finally rest. She went to bed.
I stayed up for a while.
Eldest son had a chance a a new construction/roofing job starting at 7am, so I stayed awake long enough to make sure he would be able to do so. It’s amazing how entertaining old action movies can be at 5am.
Around 6:15am I crashed again, knowing that I had to be up around 9:30am to get ready to drive Middle Daughter to meetings at 10:30am and Noon. This worked out okay because I was due for meds around then anyway.
The real problem is that I am short of meds. Again. (Andagainandagainandagainandagain.)
Two weeks ago I over-used my meds to maintain a schedule that was, for me at least, VERY demanding. Activities and hours of driving each day followed by meetings, BBQ’s, and dinners. WAY more than I am used to. So I ‘boosted’. Repeatedly.
I came into this week with enough standing meds. (60mg Morphine ER every 8 hours.) But I was totally lacking the breakthrough meds. (30mg Morphine IR on demand.) Naturally, I planned a week of light movement and LOTS of naps.
Somehow the rest of the world didn’t get the memo. I have driven for no less than an hour and up to three hours a day. And cooked. And went to a concert. And washed. And stayed nice. And listened. And encouraged. And advised. And reminded. And……
God. Some days I feel like a hollow wooden shell of what everyone else sees. I look out with my dead eyes and just want to get in Guinevere (my Buick) and DRIVE. No destination. No speed limit. No planning. Just my Most Needed Person and I. Driving. With the sunroof and windows wide open, tunes blaring from my high def car stereo.
But every time I think I am just going to drive past the driveway and keep going until I run out of money, gas, or road, I hit the brakes and pull in. I sit there with my hands trembling in the dark and wonder what it used to feel like to be young, pain-free, and alive…..
Then I shut off the car, painfully climb out of the cockpit, and stagger inside; remembering to paste a plastic smile on my face for the family before I make it through the second door.
After all, can’t go letting them think I might actually be handicapped, can I?