Good (?) morning everyone! I honestly do not know why I am typing this as though I am perky and happy, when the absolute opposite is true this morning. Last night was my second night in a row where I lay in bed awake, fidgety, miserable, sweaty, and whatever else you can think of that is a synonym for awful, throw that in, too. Let me explain.
On Monday, I had planned on beginning the final leg of my medication taper, which technically I did. Except I didn’t. A second dose crept in, because it was supposed to be there, and I forgot to adjust my medication box this week to accommodate my plans. So on Tuesday, I went almost 24 hours between doses of the morphine, up from my previous best score, so to speak, of 18 hours between. What’s another 6 hours, I thought? Well, it’s a big flipping deal, apparently. At about the 20 hour mark is when I start getting the first hint of withdrawal. Feeling overly warm. Headache. Cold sweats. Not to mention the pain that I’ve had since early last month as a result of this final lap.
This was the part I knew would take the most amount of will power and determination. I wasn’t counting on massive sleep disruption in the process, because NO ONE tells you how this type of thing affects, you know, actual pain patients. If I know one thing about Fibromyalgia, it is that this disease requires, and I mean requires a good night’s rest. Forty eight hours with just 5.5 hours of rest in that span is nowhere near enough, not for a normal, and certainly not for a fibromite. So after one night of no sleep, I thought I fixed the problem last night.
I did not.
I thought I was being sneaky, and I took it two hours before I knew I’d be heading for bed. And I was hoodwinked into thinking my little scheme had worked. I got away with fooling my body. Except for the part where I didn’t, because when it is being tricked, the human body can come up with some pretty extraordinary tricks of its own. Restless leg syndrome, something I thought I didn’t have to deal with any more. Wrong. Neuropathy and allodynia make anything touching my skin hurt. Sheets? Forget about it. Clothes? Nah. Who needs to wear pajamas to bed? Combine RLS with neuropathy and it’s a recipe for insomnia. I would say this week has been a nightmare, except I would have to sleep to know about nightmares. I can’t roll my eyes enough right now without losing them out of their sockets. I’m done.
When I reflect and see the incredible amount of progress I’ve made on this adventure, I can’t say that I’m upset that this is the end of the ride. Am I disappointed that I can’t manage to squeeze out this last bit of medication? You bet I am, but I won’t beat myself up over it. At least now, if I ever get to a point where I am forced to taper due to state or even federal law, I don’t have as far to go. I sincerely hope and pray that we as a nation do not get to that point, but the climate in D.C. is not conducive to constructive talks on the drug problem without penalizing legal patients. We are the easiest target, and we will be the first to feel the squeeze. Period. If we can learn anything from the past and from current trends, I can predict that things will only get worse from here on out.
So now, the only formality is informing my pain specialist of the progress, or lack thereof, of this final lap of the taper. He might still surprise me with another option I didn’t know was available, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get there. I still have about a month before I see him.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some pain meds, a pillow and a sleep number bed calling my name. I hope they really mean it this time and aren’t teasing.
Happy Thursday to all! Gentle hugs and blessings.