If you’re here for the post with the controversy, you can find it here. Otherwise, move along.
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I ran out of Tramadol last night. I wasn’t prepared for how panicky that fact would make me. Before you start worrying that I’m addicted, no. I’m not. I’ve not needed to take a Tramadol for nearly a month now and that made me happy. The 20 I was given on prescription have lasted over 4 months. However, a badly dislocated collar bone that wouldn’t reduce, that then pulled out a few ribs and my shoulder left me curled up in a little ball and wishing that the drugs would take effect faster.
Eventually of course they did and I was able to move. Today everything is back in place, leaving me with a mere lingering stiffness through my left shoulder.
It wasn’t the first time and god knows it won’t be the last time. That is what worries me.
I’m lucky, the painkillers I’ve been prescribed haven’t had any side effects for me. No stoned feeling (I’m on a ship! A ship I say, oh fuck, seasick) like panadeine fortes or complete lack of anything helpful like with over-the-counter medication. They just take the pain away, leaving me able to function.
So to run out of them, knowing that it will be at least a month before I can see my EDSy doctor, it leaves me a little stressed. The same way running out of baby wipes, asthma medication or anti-nausea tablets does. I know that I’ll be okay in the event of a bad dislocation, hell, I’ll just cry a lot until it reduces, but that doesn’t help the panicky ‘oh fuck’ feeling that I’ve got.
See, the dislocations, they aren’t rare. If I’ve not had a bad one for a week, I know one is coming, which then triggers the anxiety over it, which then triggers the panic attacks and then it’s a vicious cycle.
Not fun.
My period is due. Of course, I will now most likely be telling you that my period is due for another 2 weeks, seeing as how my body can never work out whether it wants to bleed every 29 days or every 42. Stupid fucking thing. I can tell you that I ovulated (how do you know? I can hear you screaming – well I went from okay-ish to nauseous and floppy-as-fuck in a day, always a clear sign that my progesterone is on the rise) and that my body is gearing up to drown me, but I couldn’t tell you exactly when that’s going to happen. My request would be sooner rather than later please.
Of course, my period being due means that I am going to bend, flex and dislocate all over the place until I bleed enough to drown a small country, curl up and die from cramps and then come right again, only to start the whole process again.
[As a side note: Yes, I am going to see my GP to discuss endometriosis and other assorted fun gynecological disorders. The pain and screaming of last cycle convinced me of that. She will also prescribe more tramadol, more anti-nausea tablets and other stuff. Luckily I can just get baby wipes from the supermarket without a prescription, so I don’t need to panic about those for too long. Thank GOD.]
The floppiness always leaves me exhausted. It takes twice as much effort to walk and move, to pick the children up and change nappies. When I feel like this I spend a lot of time just laying on the floor with them, playing. Really it’s resting, but they think we’re playing and it’s easy, so we’re going to go with playing.
So bleh. I’m sore and I’m exhausted. I’ve got a lack of pain meds and an excess of insomnia. Yay me.
Heh.
