Although today was one of my 'wading through treacle days', it ultimately became one of reflection and allowed me a little pat on the back of sorts. Not one to sing my own praises, I'm sure to delete this in time, embarrassed by my continued banging on about 'small steps' and 'good days', but I'll quickly pop down my thoughts, leave them to shine/fester for a day or two and then, most likely, either delete them for ever, or squirrel them away in one of my Word folders, reserved for times I read back over the writing I do on delusional days, or rather, words that makes me go ewwww!
It occurred to me this morning, on waking, that I have spent the last six months weaning myself off a rather terrifying concoction of Tramadol (opioid analgesic), Codeine (narcotic), Omeprazole (stomach acid inhibitor) , Fluoxetine (anti-depressant), Oramorph (liquid morphine) and Celecoxib (anti-inflammatory) The even more alarming truth is that I’ve been ingesting all or some of these at different times over the last five years after my pelvis refractured in 2006 as an indirect result of pregnancies, births and general wear and tear following a road traffic accident in 1985.
After a rather horrific withdrawal of Tramadol and difficulties managing a variety of other cold turkeys as one would expect, I’m emerging from the fog feeling rather triumphant!
Although my mobility is still impaired and is likely to stay that way, the joy of being able to think for myself, to hold my thoughts in my head, to engage in conversations without losing the thread of it along the way and to be able to make plans with friends without worrying if I’ll be well enough to keep to my arrangements, is just unbelievable.
This week is the first week in a very long time, when I’ve been able to organise separate days or evenings out with A and my girlfriends. The friends I have, of course, have been crucial to my recovery. Some are local while some live in
, where we lived for twelve years before relocating back up North. During my illness they have never once found issue with my calling off arrangements when I’ve been in pain or too tired, they’ve taken the boys for tea when they’ve noticed I’m unwell (without being asked) and have ‘popped round’ just to check I’m okay more often than I can recall. Even in their own times of crisis, they have offered their kindness and support, of which I will always be grateful. I know these friends are there for me as I am there for them, and while all I can be is a port in the storm and a shoulder to cry on, I will always do what I can to be the friend they have each been to me. London