Ugh. My psychiatrist, who is supposedly an expert in addiction is recommending me going on a low dose of opiates to help with the pain until my surgery in January (unless it gets bumped up; I'll find out on Thursday). He thinks the progressive pain puts me at risk in so many ways, from work to relapse.
I started crying.
Opiates were never my thing, but I have taken them many times for recreational purposes. I pretty much took everything for recreational purposes.
I really don't want to take these meds. I'd rather be in pain. Even if I'm a miserable, irritable ***** and I have to work extra hours to get my work done (my brain currently isn't firing on all cylinders because the pain is distracting). I can deal with the pain. I have a very high tolerance for pain. But it's taking a lot of of me. I'm tired all the time. Just getting out of bed and putting on my clothes is so draining. I don't see how opiates will help with that.
I've tried all the non-narcotic options with no relief but something about having to take opiates scares the hell out of me. I really feel like it's the equivalent of a doctor putting a shot glass of vodka on the table and telling me to drink it.
I know will have to take these pills after my surgery. I have accepted that. But just taking them for the next 3 months is screwing with my mind. Worst of all, my mom is on board. She wants me to take the pills so I'm not suffering. Does she not remember me picking me up of the floor of my apartment, covered in vomit, blood and urine. Me in the ICU in a coma? The doctors telling her I wouldn't wake up and to think about taking me off life support? Planning my funeral Rehab?
I will see what the surgeon has to say on Thursday. Unless there is some rock solid plan to make sure I don't get hooked, I need to remind myself that this is my decision and I can reject medical advice.
I went to two meetings today. Even though it was cold and rainy, by the end of my evening meeting and hanging out with friends at the local burger joint, it wasn't hurting that much. People in AA have offered everything to me. To shop for my groceries. To drive me places. To just come over to my apartment and hang out so I don't isolate. I am so grateful.
But I am also so confused. I'm going to drop the subject with my mom, take it one day at a time, and see what the surgeon has to say. He needs to know how insane of an addict/alcoholic I am. That I am completely powerless over these drugs.
I also got fitted for a suit for my brother's wedding. I hate clothes shopping, but it wasn't so bad. I need to ask a girl in AA to come with me for support. Platonic of course.
So all in all, a pretty average Saturday
