I wasn’t really exposed to cancer as a child. It seems the disease wiped out a fair few of my relatives but long before I was born.
Even as an adult my involvement with friends or relatives suffering has been minimal. They get ill, it last some time, they die. Life moves on for the rest of us. Occasionally some good news. A friend gets the all clear. And you carry on as normal while they, no doubt, share their elation with a fear of the illness returning.
This afternoon I had a nap. After half and hour the evil pelvic pain hit and sleep wasn’t going to happen. Sharp, unpleasant and ongoing. Stand, sit or lie it’s still there. Very tough to cope with. And a reminder that I knew nothing about what those who’ve suffered before me went through. I didn’t ask. And I was probably relieved they didn’t tell.
The naproxen that has served me well most of the time is not as effective in recent days. Topping it up with paracetamol pointless. But I do it anyway.
My instinctive reaction to this afternoon’s pain was to ignore it. But after five minutes I was chucking down the tramadols and then swigged oral morphine straight from the bottle. There’s not that much left in the bottle. Hopefully the GP will act on my online request for a new bottle this week. Or I’ll be in trouble.
I’m still reluctant to play the slow release morphine pills instead of tramadol. They wiped me out last time I had them. And much as I want pain relief I also want to have a period of alertness that last more than eight hours a day.
Being overwhelmed by pain isn’t pleasant. It doesn’t help you focus on things. And neither do most of the drugs that relieve the pain.