It had already been a rough day - lots of shoulder pain, neck pressure, screwdriver-in-the-eye, trouble eating and so on. By the time I got to the surgery, I was feeling really shakey and weak and very very low. I'd also made a stupid mistake whilst driving over there, that I was beating myself up over.
I told the doc that the past week to ten days has been a lot worse, leading up to the anniversary of the accident yesterday. He said he could tell I wasn't well the minute he saw me in the waiting room. I was quite tearful throughout the appointment, but then at the end I broke down in floods of tears. He was obviously very concerned, and looked like he was feeling pretty helpless.
I told him I'm scared that the Lofepramine doesn't seem to be working, yet, and what do we do if it doesn't. The thought of going through the whole running-down-the-old-meds-then-building-up-the-new process again is overwhelming. He didn't really seem to have an answer, but did say that we'd probably add to the Lofepramine rather than replace it, but he'd have to talk to the shrink about it.
He told me to go ahead and increase the Lofepramine dose - to the maximum allowed. I asked how long it could take to work and he said another two to four weeks. I guess that's why he then signed me off till the end of May. It totally floored me at the time, though, and scared me too - that I'm that ill. Since he's usually quite conservative with his sick notes, I'm guessing it means he thinks I'll be at the far end of the time estimate, if it works at all.
I'm also imagining (perhaps wrongly) that the 'additions' he mentioned are likely to be antipsychotics. That thought terrifies me even more. The only reason I'm thinking it though, is that I know it often happens in severe cases of chronic pain.
Coming home after the appointment, I was very conscious of my silly mistake earlier, and the fact that I was driving on had a double dose of morphine. I didn't feel impaired setting off, but you never know. At one roundabout, halfway home, I suddenly completely blanked on who had right of way and which way the traffic should be flowing. Luckily I got it right, but over the rest of the trip I got more and more panicky about being on the road. Suddenly everyone was driving too fast and too silly.
By the time I got home, the pain was building (not least from the stress) and it got worse and worse from then on.
My back was awful and so was my shoulder. I knew I needed to eat something, but all I could manage was a bagel (the same as lunch); even so, I spent several hours afterwards feeling very very sick. I just have no appetite at the moment.
I tried getting the chins out - I needed the cuddles! - but it was just too painful. So here I am, in bed. The morphine has finally kicked in, but I know I'll need more to get any sleep. And then it all begins again tomorrow.
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