One More Day

Everything hurts. It’s 4 o’clock in the morning, and the alarm goes off when I realize this. I lay there in the dark wondering what time is it? It cannot be time to get up already. I just went to bed, and everything hurts.

Only a couple thousand more days and I can retire. Until then I have to get up every morning even when every fiber of my being resists.

The reason I can do this is lying next to me. My life, the person I’ve loved for more than half our lives. As I stumble out of the room and shut the door I can hear his soft breathing, and every fiber of my being wants to climb back into the bed with him. To curl up next to his warmth and drift off to dreamland once again.

But, I can’t, and everything hurts. 

My morning routine commences with coffee and make up and clothes and dogs to feed and walk before I go. Slowly, as my old body warms, everything hurts a little less. 

After a time I open the bedroom door, still hearing his soft breathing I lean over and whisper “I’m leaving, honey” in his ear. He stirs from slumber and softly murmurs “be careful” before kissing me and saying “I love you, babe.”. I smile, and realize I don’t hurt nearly so much right now.

The commute is long, and sitting makes my body stiffen and ache. I stop once during the drive and get out to move around. I feel every step, as the pain washes over me like a wave. Sometimes it feels like a tsunami. 

It’s about this time the exhaustion sets in as well. I’ve been out of bed about three hours and it feels like I never slept at all.

My muscles and joints ache and I feel feverish even though I know I’m not. I know the pain medication has worn off,  but I want to wait just a little while longer before taking more. I despise being reliant on a chemical to get through the day, but I despise living in constant pain just a little bit more so I reluctantly open the bottle and take the medication.  Now it’s a waiting game. It’ll take an hour before I get any relief and then that will only last a couple of hours after that.

I arrive at work, and the distraction of being extremely busy in a demanding job is a double-edged sword. I like the job. I love the constant mental stimulation, and realize that as I age this is an absolute necessity.  What I don’t like is the toll the constant stress takes on me.

I don’t have a lot of choices, either. I’m going to hurt. That’s a given. I need to work. That’s also a given. Rock meet hard place.

Finally, as the day ends I take another dose of pain medication and realize I’m running low. I call my pharmacy to find out when the next refill is. I’m told the date, but I’m also told they don’t have any of my medication to dispense.

I sigh as I hang up the phone. This has happened numerous times over the last several months. Delays in getting medication due to shortages that aren’t real. The federal government, in a well-intentioned effort to curb the rampant misuse of pain medications, has cast a wide net and legitimate patients are hauled up short along with those that would abuse the system. We’re left to do without something that makes life bearable. Worse, we’re made to feel like criminals simply for asking for it. Pharmacists, reluctant to be held accountable for those who would misuse medications, question dosages and drugs and asks why you need so much. 

Don’t bother trying to say they don’t or they shouldn’t. I’ve been on the receiving end of glares and questions from a few. 

I call other pharmacies. Same story everywhere, no they don’t have any and no they don’t know when they’ll have more.

I hang up the phone and cover my face with my hands trying to control my emotions. I’m facing no ability to mitigate the pain I live with every day. My stress levels rise which, in turn, causes my pain to ratchet up.

I breathe, I pray, and I hope that I can get through one more day. I have so much love in my life, and so much support, but no one can hug the pain away.

I pick up the phone and call one more pharmacy. Yes, they do have the medication and yes they can fill my prescription. The relief in my voice is evident as I repeatedly thank the tech. She can tell I’ve been through it, and tells me I’m in no way alone. This is happening as wholesalers create false supply shortages while the government tries to restrict access to drugs that doctors should not have been constantly prescribing for everything from hangnails to broken bones.  Many times their patients become addicted, increasingly seeking drugs once their need has passed, and eventually turning either to the black market drugs or their friendly neighborhood dealer. Sometimes they end up dying and their families are shattered.

None of this I have any blame for or control over.  I have done nothing to warrant this constant roller coaster ride, but no one will stop this crazy carnival and let those of us who are not part of the show off to go live our lives as we did before the games began.

So, every month I’ll go through the same routine until the time comes that I can get nothing to relieve the intense pain I live with every day.  

I don’t know what I’ll do then. I hope I don’t have to find out.  I pray there is a resolution found to protect those of us who live with the constant anxiety and ever-present pain.

With the medication I function. I am contributing to society. I’m paying taxes and enjoying my later years.

Without it…I don’t want to find out. I don’t want to know, because I fought taking medication for years and it took a toll on me. I can’t go back there.  I’m stable, I’m in a good pain management program. And none of that matters when I cannot get my medication.

But, I will continue to fight until the day comes when this insanity ends one way or another.