I think of going to the hospital for help. Facing that humiliating moment when you tell them that you’re there not because you want to save your life but because you want to die. I think of the uncomfortable hours I will wait before the very busy nurse comes to talk to me. I know that when she does talk to me, we will be interrupted by several people for several reasons. Paperwork, room needs restocking, garbage needs emptying. Time is up. All of the things that harbor a good honest conversation. Yes these things will bother me, but if I say anything I will be documented as a “difficult” patient. This label will severely effect my treatment.
No matter though. I know that talking about this isn’t going to help. They won’t believe me. They will insist that I will feel better once I tell them my story. It’s a belittling approach from the start. Still, because I want help, because they are the professionals, I jump through the hoops that I am directed through. I tell them my story, cutting it into point form so that I can get it out in the half hour I am allotted. In that half hour I am to cover stories of multiple child molestations, child abandonment, rape, domestic abuse and 14 years of pain accompanied by 19 operations. Needless to say I’ll have to talk very fast to get even a fraction of the story out in 30 minutes. When they have listened for a half an hour the usual treatments that didn’t work before will be applied if not forced through ultimatum. “If you don’t take this medication, we can’t help you”. The adverse side effects I had last time I tried the medications will be ignored. I’ll fall through the cracks in the system. Again.
It’s not that they don’t try to help me, they really do. It’s the reality that there is no help. There is nothing more that can be done. They cannot tell me this. They cannot confirm my sense of hopelessness so they refer me, medicate me in ineffective ways. They do what they can to provide the illusion that change is coming soon. After 14 years of pain, their illusions don’t work anymore. I see through them and although I see their good intentions and good hearts, it pains me to say that despite all of their efforts, they have failed me. Leaves me thinking that some people just can’t be saved.
The experts say accept your pain. That I have not accepted mine. For me there is little difference between acceptance and defeat. What exactly does acceptance look like and how am I doing things wrong? No one can tell me this, they can only tell me that I have not accepted it. Somehow and somewhere I am doing things wrong, making it harder on myself. I have searched a million times over for that thing that will make this life a little more tolerable. No luck yet.
The struggle is there every day. Waking in extreme pain (the kind that makes you pass out) working hard to fight the depression and find the gift that pain brings. I modify my life around the pain, not pushing, not aggravating, accommodating always. I accept the damage to my body letting go of my dreams, setting aside many of my own standards. As I modify, so much life disappears.
I get proactive! I put the work in and redefine my identity and rebuild my life with different values. I’ve done this three times now. Each time watching my successes taken by another operation or poor turn in health. Stay chipper – rebuild. Find happiness again based on different values. Rinse and repeat. True this is ultimately the nature of life for anyone healthy or sick. But I have reached my limit. What is required of me is “not reasonable in any way.” My doctors words, not mine.
I’m tired now. I’m not sure if anything else really matters anymore. I’m tired. Such a simple phrase. One that most people will take lightly and dismiss.
Believe me! I am searching yet find nothing strong enough to hold me here. I worry so much for him. How it will effect him. We’ve been together for only three of the 14 years of pain. Not wanting to hurt him has kept me here for a long time. Even that is breaking now. How brutally unfair of me to use someone else as a reason to stay. No pressure on him right? For the most part I stay silent and don’t drag him into the depths of the abyss. He has no idea that right now he is the only thing I am clinging to. After all of these years dealing with pain I am a master of illusion.I present the life I want to live and not the one i am stuck in. Act as if – right. He knows that my pain gets the better of me, he does know I’m suicidal. I do communicate! Bless his healthy happy heart, he really just doesn’t understand what that means. He has zero experience with depression or suicide in his life or family. This suicide stuff might as well be a foreign language.
He loves me so much he won’t leave. He gets stuck between what is right and what is fair. The love he has for me makes him compensate for where the world failed me, where my parents failed me. He can see how much effort I put in, he respects it. He also sees that I am fighting some crazy odds and unusual circumstances. He tries to help.
There is no way he can succeed. The trap has been set. He’s caught in a game he can never win. He’s too loving to quit. As the years go by I see him get weaker. I see the callous scars building in the places where he was once strong. I see how my pain and my responses are destroying him. I think deep down we both know this can’t work. We want it to and so neither of us will let go. If I really love this man, I will set him free of me.
I’ve done my research and have the equipment now. People say it’s an easy way to go but I know that’s total crap. The body has a thousand fail safes to keep it alive. All of those fail safes trigger pain. There is no easy pain free way to die. I’m in for a rough few minutes but those minutes are the gateway to the end. I’ve been through more pain than most. I can take just a few minutes more if it guarantees a complete end. It can’t be worse than being awake for abdomen surgery. It can’t be. I’ve never done anything like it. With no tolerance to it, or anything else, it won’t take much. The part of my brain that regulates my breathing will go to sleep and so will I. I’ll never wake up again. Yes! This makes me sad but I am not afraid. The concept of death comforts me. The act of living in pain is what terrifies me. I have done this long enough. No one gets to say I didn’t give this life of pain an extremely good shot 🙂
It’s obvious that I don’t want to die, I certainly wouldn’t be here talking about everything if I did. I would really love some help. The problem lies in the lack of help. I have exhausted the resources. I’ve knocked on every door twice. I’ve rebuilt three times, each rebuild bringing a slightly less satisfying existence. This sin’t just a case of me being in a weak moment. This is a legitimate case of “what can be done?”
9 comments
You articulated exactly what I’m too tired to say to the T. Especially with your experience with professionals. Has left me saying what can be done? Exactly. I’m sorry — the spot we’re in is outrageously tough. Rock and a hard place and only way out is six feet down.
Hi TrophyX,
Yup, we’re in a real bind. And it is very “real.” In my experience many healthy people treat me like i am exaggerating about the lack of help, they treat me like I just have not found it. Do you get that too? Healthy people seem to believe that the system always has resources for people like us. It’s not true and too often we get neglected when we need help.
So clever me I took every single one of these people to the doctors with me. Involving them (as much as they wanted to be) in my care. In the end they all walked away with a new insite on health care, the system and where it fails. Doing this took a lot of time and effort, lots. But it was worth it. No one in my support system blames me or treats me like I’m not doing enough. I get the respect I need because i was able to show a few people how real the challenge is. At times these people can comfort me but I’m sure you know there is a limit to the comfort they can provide.
I’m here and deeply experienced with chronic pain and life threatning health battles. I find suicide project very helpful but notice there’s not a lot of pain survivors here. You and i both know that the chemical process that is happening in our brain (due to the pain) puts us at a way higher risk level than suicidal people who are not in pain. I am not belittling other people’s pain but I am giving the proper weight and respect to your suffering. It is different in it’s very chemical nature. If you need someone to talk with – chat me up
Yeah I mean, its fucked. Only adequate word to blanket the misery that is this type of scenario with. I sit here in my “char” (Quebecer in me) and I sit in utter disbelief. Its messed how a system that promises to offer support really has nothing to give to us outliers. Fuck, a decade of being dissociated from reality is a long time. Thats almost how long its been for this cowboy and I’m ready to not only, refuse to get back in the saddle next time i get hit by an exploring branch, but get off the horse of my own accord.
Since I was 22 I felt there was no hope for and the clocks been tickin n tockin away while im talkin to professionals who just wasted my time at the end of it all. If I leave something I guess I’m comforted my older brother saw how impotent the psychiatric system was in dealing with me. If I go I know he will carry a fury for helping the fringe walkers who aren’t helped by meds. Meds destroyed me more. I’m intrigued by your method though — morphine. That’s different. Where’d you get yours? Dark net?
Email is xtrophypast @ gmail . com no spaces. Shoot me one.
The medication is legit. Straight from the doctor. I knew this shit would be good for something, one day lol. I’ve been on morphine for 5 years. A few months back I had had enough of the side effects. I went off it cold turkey but kept filling the prescriptions. I’ve got tons. Not a single issue with addiction when I quit. That’s because when your body is in pain it processes the drug differently and has no addictive qualities. Of course she gave it to me in pill form but I live in Vancouver – hello mt fellow Canadian! – and we have the highest population of heroin users. I shit you not on Main and hastings street there are literally hundreds of heroin users walking around or even lying on the ground. It is a scene that vancouver works very hard to hide. It is HELL. The most broken absolutely shattered people you will ever see are there. No joke i had to step over two passed out people to get anywhere. My heart broke watching these people. Funny thing is they look how i feel on the inside. I felt so at home there. Clearly these are the people who wish for death but cannot find the courage to do it. It really is HELL. My worst fear would be to become one of them. As a result of this community, Vancouver has a safe injection site where nurses will teach you how to inject. they also provide all the sterile stuff you need and a safe space if you don’t want to OD. The only thing they won’t do is actually inject you, you have to do that yourself. Some sort of legality thing. Anyways I went in and told them i was a first time user and I’d like some safety tips. They sat me down for an hour and taught me all the things i need to know to avoid an OD. I’m really really good at making people think I’m stable and okay 🙂 So I got a class one crash course on how to prep it and when the time comes shoot it. If I am going to stoop so low as to put a needle in my arm, this shit better work. I’m not messing around.
God bless harm reduction.
Yeah no shit! I was just there in Van. Spent most of my time in North Van. Went to Burnaby a bit. But yeah I believe I was around Main. Wild eh. I can relate with those people too. I’m not a quebecer but I got some french in my veins. Hopefully I can get some morphine in them soon too. Thats too legit though. Your freakin doc prescribes you Morphine. Cmon. For what?? Thats hella tight.
Something you jsut said though; rings so true. “They look how I feel on the inside.” Thats it. You got it bang on the head. Those people look how demolished and dead I am inside. If people saw my insides they’d have PTSD. No shit.
I’m too close to the edge. If I had a gun I wouldve pulled it a while ago. I have some other ideas but my number one impulse move is your classic rope. But this cowboy aint lassoing no cows. That be goin right around this stallion’s neck. Ideally, if I could plan I’d do somethin like your set up.
@ Hazy – Right? Like how often can you get a lesson like that? The little things make life better 🙂 Thank you to all the previous destroyed humans who brought such a program to light. Their sacrifices will be harvested.
@Trophy, I mentioned earlier that I have had 19 operations. My body is broken, fucked beyond repair and most forms of help. The thing that got me the prescription was to display and absolute will to overcome my challenges. Doctor saw me fighting those odds, winning at some and one day said, “let me help you in the ways i can” That help came in the form of pain killers and it didn’t change my life, it saved my life. Right up until now. Head hangs low.
My doctor is very important to me. I respect her. The method i have chosen will be seen as heroin OD, she’ll never know that I broke and abused her help. Fuck I hate that I’m kind of doing this to her but… yeah here i am. I havent done it yet, so there’s that
You sound like such a fighter. A survivor. A warrior. I hope you are still with us and that you find the strength you need to keep going. To keep hoping.
yes I am still here. Thank you 🙂 Last night was a tough one, really rough. I found myself all strapped up and poked. All I had to do was press down and… Probably seconds away from attempting something rather dangerous. I kind of snapped to, was a little surprised to find myself so desperate. I’m not one to go there. Usually struggle my way out before it gets that hard. As I sat there with the power to kill myself, suddenly I didn’t feel so powerless anymore. Funny how that works. Oh but how damn annoying too. I’d really rather not face death in order to gain enough courage to make it through the next day. Not a habit I want to develop. Regardless can’t deny I am here, gotta deal with it. somehow.
I’m at the end of my very long rope of experience. I called many “professionals” this morning. I put that in quotes because as patients we are actually the experts on chronic pain. the doctors are the support staff with no first hand education. Futile to call I’m sure but going through the motions of trying to get better are key, even if they fail. Oh that damn experience and resilience again. It’s a double edged sword. At your worst times you survive and at your worst times – you survive. It makes surviving mean a lot less if no matter what happens – you survive. LOL
Last night, I did the right, and the humiliating thing, and told someone. I wouldn’t let them anywhere near me of course, i didn’t want the power aka method to be taken from me. He sweetly accepted that and spent a good portion of the night texting me, like I preferred. I am very fortunate to have this support. I see how so many on this site don’t have proper care and love in their lives. It makes me sad.