Sh*t Just Got Real
For someone who usually doesn’t take narcotics—even when prescribed and encouraged—I’m somewhat amazed that I’ve given myself permission to do so this time. The belly pain is still there, although it’s much better than it was and I’m sleeping great. The main problem is, I have become…..well, as your grandma would say…..bound up. It’s a common occurrence in people taking pain meds, and as indelicate as the subject is, I’m still a nurse, and nurses aren’t the least bit afraid to talk about these matters.
Not to put too fine a point on things, but doing business these days feels more like bricks making their way out sideways. Anyone who has ever experienced this phenomenon knows what it’s like to sit there for 45 minutes and sweat buckets while trying to relieve the pressure, and then when you finally do offload, the result is the size of…..a walnut. That’s it. Oh, you may THINK you need to do more, and you do, but that’s all you can manage. So you go take a swig of prune juice or Milk of Magnesia if you’ve got it, make a wry face because of the taste, and hope for the best.
Well, the “best” hasn’t happened yet, so I’m trying to be a good sport while feeling like I’ve gained 50 pounds in two days. In the meantime, I think I’ll lay off the Vicodin and bring on the Dulcolax. I hate sitting on the throne feeling like I’m giving birth. In fact, I’d rather go through unmedicated childbirth again than deal with this…..at least I’d get something good out of it.
You ever notice how your values change when you can’t “go”? I don’t CARE about the plane crash in the Ukraine or the fact that I am in desperate need of a shower. I don’t care that I just sold my seldom-used bike and made $40 that I didn’t have before. I only want to get the mail moving again.
So Will is out getting me some stool softeners while I look longingly at the Vicodin bottle, needing to take some but fearing the consequences. Hmm, maybe I’ll try some Motrin instead and see if that works. I don’t want to be in pain, but I also don’t like feeling as though I’m sitting on a bowling ball. Nor do I particularly appreciate the fact that this never used to happen to me when I was younger. In my 40s I could take Percocet for a week after a kidney stone surgery and never have a moment of trouble with my plumbing; obviously that is no longer the case. Phooey!