Too much

Last night, I took too much morphine. Irresponsible. Dangerous. Essential. This was not a ‘cry for help’. After all, I’ve been crying for help for 3 years now and it counts for nothing. I did not take an overdose and I don’t want to die.

But, the had pain enveloped me, dragging into my legs and causing my stomach to bloat unnaturally, like a balloon. And I was alone. I am alone with this pain. There are very few people that understand exactly how it bruises me, how it is killing me slowly, day-by-day. Plenty of people have seen me in pain, I am lucky to have such a supportive and caring family, but they don’t know.

I didn’t measure out 5ml of Oramorph. I just unscrewed the cap (which is a chore all on its own because of the child safety top!) and took a swig, a gulp.

As I laid in bed, praying for the pain to stop, praying for the endometriosis to just fade away, my body began to react to the medication, and as I realised what I’d done, how silly I’d been, I began to panic. But I was alone, I had to coach myself out of a panic attack and once again carry on despite of it all…

 

“Barely there-

Standing horizontally, shaking, on the end of my toes,

my face turned up to a starless sky, blocked by a veil of ceiling.

My limbs are heavier than steel,

uncooperative against the unyielding torrent that is flooding my body and my senses.

Almost too much-

My joints creak, protesting my fool’s attempt at slight movements, almost too painful to finish the motion,

and so I give up.

Closing my eyes while my thoughts swim and flail, incoherent,

unable to follow one caution on to the next.

I need to cling to someone stronger, warmer, better than me, I need to be held.

Holding my broken pieces, frayed edges, together.

As I lose control, each action has a little something extra, a little jig, like a tic I am unable to hide.

It is easier to lie still, taking shallow barely-there breaths.

There is what’s left of the strange tang in my mouth, the last testament of my weakness and evidence of my defeat against an unrelenting adversary;

Pain.

And Pain is lonely.”

alone
Clara Lieu Fine Art
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Author: ChronicWriter

a writer, living with Endometriosis

3 thoughts on “Too much”

  1. I know that feeling. 2014 was the year my endo was out of control. I had a failed ablation surgery and was desperately waiting to hear if a certain well-known surgeon would accept me as a patient for excision surgery.

    During this time, one day I was supposed to attend a wedding. I was in too much pain to go, and was despairing because I had tried so hard to fight through the pain to get ready and make myself look nice…but in the end, the pain was too much. I was afraid of what I’d do, so I told my husband to lock my pain meds in the safe while he was gone (the key is on his keychain, so he’d have that with him at the wedding.) I didn’t want to die, I just didn’t want to be in pain anymore and I was afraid that out of desperation, I would just knock back half the bottle.

    If you need someone to talk to, I’m here. *gentle hugs*

    Like

  2. Before I got a proper diagnosis, I was in agony one night with what eventually got diagnosed as stage iv endo, with a leaking endometrioma. I passed out every time I moved and at one point I woke up to find a pile of paracetamol on the bedclothes. I don’t even remember gathering them together, but I guess I hadn’t taken them. It was close, only the knowledge that paracetamol wasn’t very effective that stopped me, I think. But 10+ years and 4 surgeries later I’m almost pain-free. I’m also reproductive-organ-free, but hey. Pain is lonely and isolating, but there are people who understand exactly what you are going through. *hugs*

    Liked by 1 person

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