It is unending... a tape worm that never gets enough and it's eating through my brain. I took the 3.5 oxys after work plus now my nightly morphine, a tizanidine, and an adderall xr since Rob took one a while ago before going to class at 7:30. I figure an rx speedball is always a good night. Perhaps I'll be entertained for long enough to keep my mind off of how low my drug supply is becoming.
I have 7 days to get to my doctor appointment, which means I have only 2 oxys a day if I want to have some each day.... technically less than that even. That's half the amount I should have, minus the couple of days from then until when my fill date "should" be. However, he wrote it last time 2 days before I filled it last, and i'm hoping that means he'll let me fill it right away. He may be slightly off from his family emergency that totally fucked up my medication schedule because he wasn't in his office and no one would tell me what was going on. I ended up getting my oxys early, I filled my morphine on time, and now I'm wondering how this will all play out.
There is a special kind of hate that blossoms when you realize your past actions are constantly undermining your future comfort you can't help but hate it. I have to take a xanax, only 0.5mg, although I'm not such a big fan of them. I'm squirming in my skin and ready to run out of the room, under the Texas moon, and scream as loud as possible until all this frustration that's built up subsides.
We have no money, running out of my meds, constant stress stress stress, and I have to hold it together for R. He's an adult, and he handles a great deal of our responsibilities, but I always have to deal with the real tough shit: insurance, bonds for his school, getting his fafsa taken care of, getting our SNAP benefits together, etc.. It becomes tiring to feel like both a wife and a caregiver (not a mom). I want him to do some shit on his own, but his anxiety builds to the point where he is stammering and unable to even move let alone work on anything complicated.
I love him and I know his anxiety/mental problems are not his fault--if he could do anything, it would be to be mentally healthy.
.........
1 day until the doctor. Tonight we're off to see the Toasters, and my excitement is mixed with pain.
The soles of my feet burn and the bones running up my legs ache without end. I woke up like this and I will go to sleep like this. I am left with 1 oxy, my nightly morphine, and maybe some tea--if it's necessary to keep me on my feet for the show.
This fucking body is only 25 but 25 more years stuck here seems interminable. The only positive are the drugs--amphetamines in the morning to wake up, and morphine to keep my pain reduced, and oxycodone to really knock me and the pain out.
The world is fucked up, it's not related to fairness, but sometimes I wish that it was a little less arbitrary.
I'm rambling now. the pain is distracting pushing every thought out.
I'll be back later on.
I love you all,
Lucy
P.S. If you ever have a question or anything, feel free to comment or follow me on twitter. I'm here, just quiet sometimes.
