Monday, January 10, 2022

Me - The 1975

 

I first heard the song “Me” by the 1975 in November of 2013 when I was 23 years old.  I was driving down highway 39 back home, passing the ACE Hardware, feeling super lonely as a fairly recent college graduate who was single, stuck in basic training for Probation/Parole, and things just weren’t all that I thought they were going to be.  The song is all about general unhappiness and just disappointing those you love.  I literally felt time stop in the moment I heard that song and this is when my obsession with the band began.  Now, I pick up “Me” again for very different reasons.

            I think what I want to say is I am not okay.  I mean I’m really not okay.  I am two different versions of myself constantly throughout each day but neither of them is who I want to be.  Things appear better on the outside; I am not physically barred by the walls of a hospital anymore, I can cuddle with my son, I can enjoy time at home with friends can come see me.  But physically I am an absolute wreck and it’s killing my mental health.

            Going into my surgery in November, my surgeon promised me that he did not know if this operation could take the pain away, but it could improve my eating.  As much as I knew he didn’t guarantee me that, every bit of me held out hope for it if I came through the surgery.  What I didn’t expect, however, is that my pain would be remarkably worse, and that is where we are.

            I use chronic pain medication.  There is no doubt a stigma surrounding it, but when I tell you I can’t operate without something being able to block my pain, I can’t.  It’s a gamble trying to find the right opioid for you, just like with mental health meds, and I may be small, but my body can handle a lot without altering my state of mind (and for this, I am grateful that it doesn’t).  As I’ve mentioned to some, my insurance has denied me a new medication that works, and it’s going to cost me $1600 per month for this medication.  Is this affordable?  No.  Am I willing to go into debt over this?  100000%.  It becomes a quality of life issue.   The problem recently has been that I got prescribed the wrong one my body can’t absorb and the amount of pain I experience has made me want to die every single day.

            But how do you explain this?  Pain is something you cannot see, you cannot measure.  It’s a very visicious cycle; for the 1 1/2 -2 hours my medicine works, I feel invincible; I play with Jackson, I text my friends, I post my stories, simply because I am not hurting.  I feel like I can do anything in the world.  But when the medicine stops; it stops.  I’m back to not being able to move, crying, and wanting to just die again.  It’s just that bad.

            My best friend came over to visit and it was wonderful; but before she was there, and I had cried all morning, and after she left, I cried some more.  I try not to cry in front of my son, but this is where I’m lost; how do I accept not being able to care for my own child because of my own pain levels?  I can’t fathom dressing him for school, driving him to daycare, getting his meals ready when my husband is out of town.  I can’t do it.  What kind of mother does that make me?  Of course, Jackson, already the empath, comes over to me and says “Mommy, why are you sad?” and I have to explain about my tummy hurting, which he is more than familiar with.  He tells me to “take your medicine so your tummy feels better.  Your medicine makes you happy.”  He gives me a hug.  Then I feel guilty that a two and a half year old child like him even has to understand all that he already does.

            I constantly have dreams where I wake up and I’m back in my younger body, in those days, healthier, remembering the old friends/times, and it’s torture.  I’d rather not have them.

            In what has been a positive development, I have started to be able to eat.  I do consume small amounts, but I am so thankful for that.  It’s going to be a long road, but this part is okay.  I can’t explain what it’s like to experience and enjoy food after being deprived of it for so long.  Removing my stomach greatly improved my bladder condition; if you remember, I was unable to even season any type of food with that, so everything was so bland.  It’s incredible to eat something and really taste it and enjoy it.  I’ll eat something as simple as a sandwich loaded with mayo and a sauce and I’m like “oh my god – this is the best thing I ever had” and my husband will look at me funny like, “no it’s not.”  I’ve developed a “Lindsay Scale”: is this really a good food?  Or am I just excited because I haven’t tasted anything in years?

            So if I have trouble answering the “how are you?” question or responding to “you look like you’re doing great!”; this is why.  I’m not doing great, I’m not fine.  I’m just trying to survive in the adapted world I have to live in.

            But thank you for your prayers, your messages, and the surprises.  Seriously; every one of them has made me feel good.  As I have had to express, the majority of my life is now lived through my phone and communicating with others that way as I can’t go anywhere at the present time.  Every individual, current best friends, past friends, who has reached out has made me smile.  Y’all are truly amazing, and with my ever present love language being words of affirmation, just a small act or simple string of words goes a long way.

            So thank you for caring, thank you for reading, and thank you for being you.  Maybe I’ll get Me off repeat one day.  Until then…


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