Wednesday, May 8, 2013

Spoon Debt?

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Again: Your afternoon, my "morning." (Writing this Tuesday afternoon.) My pain receptors apparently want me to be nocturnal, and I'm a sun junkie so no thank you, stupid nerves.

Sweet Raging Warrior Princess, I am PISSED at my nerves. I tried to groove with these Ganesha chants I'd downloaded but I ended up telling the beautiful musicians to shut the fuck up.

This may meander, ramble, be random, and could be incoherent. Let's see what happens, yeah? I've never written right smack in pain land. I got myself to sitting with gabapentin (Neurontin) and sickeningly sweet tea. Quitting caffeine is a stop and go process, apparently. Anyway, the gabapentin plays hell with my words. It goes from annoyances like switching 'here' for 'hear' to straight up Alzheimer's like word salad.

But I've been flat in bed, mostly sleeping with pharmaceutical help, since yesterday morning. I HAD to do something. So I'm telling you I'm in pain, and I'm seriously pissy about it today. I'm also having a late cycle and the recent weepy tweets and the rage today are more a product of the PMDD hormonal flux than anything. Extra fun fact? Gabapentin fucks up my cycle so charting isn't always accurate.

But I wanted to tell you why I'm in the stabby onslaught of neuralgia: Spoon Debt. Read the Spoon Theory post if you need backstory, but what I did was go see Iron Man 3 Saturday (which was AMAZEBALLZ) and then on Sunday drove Bird and me to church for the May Day service. It was so beautiful and I reconnected with a few darling friends I hadn't seen in ages. The debt comes into play in my knowing that my ass was going to be toast after a big weekend. And now I'm crying because Big Weekend = sitting in a theatre then sitting at church. Pity me, sob my stupid little nerves. Fuck that noise, say the warrior goddess brain bits.

And then my brain explodes.

Sometimes I know I'm going to go into a pain & energy debt because I really want to go to an event. I try to rest up before but have found this is unhelpful. So I knew I'd be wrecked yesterday, but the fallout's worse than I'd expected. Lesson: Red Queen week takes away "pain spoons."

I have an appointment Thursday with my pain management neurologist and I'm gathering thoughts and making notes. I'm absolutely terrified to increase my medications, but I think we need to discuss my limits and the spoon debt phenomena and talk risks of upping the dose. He's mentioned a pain pump and I flat-out refused but I haven't done any reading about it and it might be a feasible plan.

I couldn't sit up to help Bird with homework yesterday, I can't go with her and Shane to her violin lesson, and I'm just feeling like this isn't what I want. What are the risks weighed against painting when I promised a painting and being with Molly when she needs me?

Does having three kidneys take any stress off of my liver if I go on more narcotics? There should be a #phocomeliaproblems tag. Me and the three other people could discuss it. Actually, this is not a bad plan. It would be amazing to friend up other anatomical non-conformists.

Looks like, again, I've written myself out of my funk. My legs have simultaneous bee stings and toothaches, but I feel like an awake, aware person. Oh, and my ass hurts so Flatland it is.

I love you, interwebs. It is magical that you read and give me such sweet light & mojo.
Throw me a comment if you're reading- I'll see you here or in Facebookland.

xx