A day gone to hell
I woke up not feeling good. I was a little nauseous after dealing with the stupid phone company to turn my phone back on. I then had a shake, thinking it was because I was hungry but the shake just made the nausea worse. I figure I would skip the diet today and have real food. I went to Starbucks and had a breakfast sandwich and my espresso. I started to feel dizzy and then sick so I waited for the next bus to come before heading home. The dizziness got worse on the ride home. I knew I was in trouble.
I got home and there were packages on my door. They were heavy and I knew I couldn’t carry them up the stairs without passing out so I took them in the house and then went upstairs. My mother was in the middle of a coughing fit and needed water. I quickly got her some. The dizziness was coming and going. I needed to go to my room and relax. I made it up the stairs without incident and then took some meds and laid down. All this did was set off my ankle pain. So in addition to my head ready to explode, my ankle bone was being pounded by an imaginary hammer. I took some pain meds and prayed for death at this point.
The migraine went away but then I was left with a residual headache. Took some Excedrin for that and I still don’t have relief but at least I can tolerate light. I also took some more Zofran as my stomach was still queasy. It’s quieting down but I still feel sick. I don’t want my ankle to act up again so I am just lying still and praying the pain goes away and that the pain meds don’t make me sicker than what I am.
All of this is not helping my suicidality. I wish there was a way for me to get arsenic pills or hemlock. That would be easier than the unknown of taking a bunch of pills and praying for death that may not come. I never should have gotten rid of the lethal meds I had in my possession at one point. I thought my suicidality would be over with once my pain meds were increased and I had adequate coverage every month. Stupid me for thinking that. Bargaining is my worse enemy. I don’t know why I bother hoping for things anymore when I know things are going to be the same or worse than what they are.
I can’t stand being in chronic pain anymore. And if my doc decides to prescribe me the extended release medication I would like, I have to finagle the bagel to afford it for a few months. That is if I want to live that long. I wanted to send a letter to my psychiatrist about my plans. But I am scared she might flip out on me. I see her Friday. I can try and talk about it then. I won’t bother telling my therapist because she won’t be my therapist that much longer.
I took an Ativan so my PTSD doesn’t flare up on me with all this pain. I’m already starting to feel anxious, which isn’t doing me any favors. I am glad I didn’t finish my coffee. I keep burping it up. I hope I don’t puke. But I need to lie down before my head explodes or I just pass out from my pain meds. I need sleep. But I am scared my ankle pain will increase once I lie down. Such a dilemma. I really don’t want the imaginary hammer to come back, pounding on my ankle bone. That wasn’t pleasant. It literally took the breath out of me it hurt so bad. Such is this stupid pain syndrome without a name.