Back in the real world

Ok. First I want to start off with good news before getting to the medical shit in my life. This morning I went home with my Aunty and Uncle. We got home at 8 am because we had to drop Jill at work and then I had to go to the shops with Bill to get some groceries. I didn’t want much, just enough to last till tomorrow night, and to keep with light meals so I’ll deal with surgery better. I want my stomach to keep moving nutrition through it but I don’t want too much left-overs in it either! I’m on codeine all day and all night now as of this morning, but we’ll get to that in a minute. So basically I’m keeping to small light meals and bigger, sloppier meals so I won’t get too constipated. I’m also drinking a lot more water on top of the already large amounts of water I drink, to prepare my kidneys for one looooooong surgery! My plan is working very well. I’m not too hungry, not too full. I had a sandwich this morning and another one for lunch. I had to have a cuppa with breakfast, between the codeine and waking up at five o’clock, I was so fucking tired! I slept for most of the way home but that didn’t help me at all.

I went to Nan’s this morning at around ten o’clock to pick up Troy. I stayed there for an hour so I could have a cuppa and discuss things with Nan. They now want me to visit them next week because they can’t bear to see me sick or in pain. Ok I understand that, but seriously if they can’t bear my suffering, turning up and badgering me and so forth won’t make them or me any more accepting of the situation! So maybe it is better for them not to turn up to the hospital after all. Hahahahahahahahahaha! Secretly I don’t want them there. I actually wanted them to come over for dinner, but they want me to rest up in my own space for two days? Um I’m shocked! They’ve gone from having no respect for my decisions, to insisting fervently that I have some space for a while! Oh my God… Nan thinks I’m too fussy because I hate the dog food they give us in hospital and that I’m just following the crowds with my intent not to eat their food. Well, I don’t care. I’m following my stomach, I couldn’t give a shit if a hundred people eats the hospital’s food, I hate the vomit of a crap. It is boring, it is too creamy and fatty for my stomach when it’s recovering from being shut down from the anesthesia, and it is definitely not my taste or cooking style that I’m used to. I don’t eat the food of a dog or a diabetic. I eat the food of a non-disabled, healthy person. And Nan thinks that I should eat bland food while I’m sick. Um, excuse me but I’m only sick when I’m constantly vomiting and would stupidly pretend to feel good about tasting spew and feeling hot stuff coming up like it’s fun! No. And food makes that feeling and taste even worse. Well codeine and thoughts like this ain’t mixing very well, so before one or the other gives way to horrible flashbacks and then terrible panicky almost spewing up feelings happen, it’s time to change topic just a little. I told Nan that her comments were very hurtful, because I’m the one who knows best how my tummy and taste buds feel. We didn’t talk to each other for a while, but then the discussion turned into something decent and I was a lot happier. Pop was disappointed that I didn’t talk to his alcoholic daughter about my eye operation, but bad luck for him. I’ve had it with my Mum and her shit, so I’m not talking to her. After my coffee and somewhat good discussions with Nan and her and Pop’s friends when they turned up, I took off to home with my beautiful fluffy dog. Me and Pop aren’t talking much so I want it to stay that way. We’re peaceful that way. He’s a fucker to talk to.

Now for the medical stuff. Since five o’clock this morning, I’ve started the codeine 24-7 routine. From this point onwards, I am not allowing the codeine to leave my system. My eye is painful enough now that I need Panadeine Extra, then four hours later I need nurofen plus. If I need Panamax, then I take it, but I can’t just take the Panamax anymore. I need something with codeine in it first. Panamax and regular nurofen isn’t cutting it anymore. I won’t take four nurofens often though, that’s way too much. So if I stick to the two nurofens, occasionally three of them, I make sure I have the ones with codeine, and add Panamax to the regime if necessary. Nan thought I was gonna turn into a zombie, but I told her that I’m on a constant low dose of codeine so I’ll be a bit out of it from this point on, but not totally out of it. I could easily get Panadeine Forte, but that’s too much fucking around for me. It takes longer to get the pain under control with lower doses of codeine at a constant rate, but once it’s sorted, it’s fine. The sad truth is that I won’t be able to stop the codeine at all now until after my surgery, and then after probably a week. The eye flare-ups come on too fast and too strong now. Panamax and nurofen used to calm them down, but it takes codeine to calm the horrible pain down now. I could take just Panamax later, but then my eye would get sorer than I can tolerate, and I’d need the nurofen plus or four regular nurofens. So I’ve opted for just the nurofen plus until my surgery is over and I won’t be in so much pain anymore. I’m eating lighter meals just so I won’t have too much trouble with my stomach, because apparently codeine causes stomach trouble over time if it’s not allowed to leave the system after a few days. The pharmacist had to call the doctor the other day to let her know what’s happening, because I was given a twelve-pack of Panadeine Extra last week, then two days later I had to get more so I won’t run out of it. It’s sad that my eye is so fucked now that I need a doctor to consent to me taking codeine every single day. At least the pharmacists can see why I need the shit, most people can easily be mistaken as faking a story for a hit because you can’t see everyone’s painful conditions. I know I’m gonna need more than thirty milligrams of codeine for a while but that’s going to be stopped by next week. Nan has a bit of an attitude towards the whole thing, but I can’t totally blame her anymore. She doesn’t know what to expect with my eye, and especially the other one. I won’t excuse high horse crap though, not ever. But I just tell Nan and Pop now that some of their words aren’t appreciated or necessary, and they’re hurtful. If they can’t handle honesty and harshness when they hurt me with their emotional abuse, then they should stop expecting me to handle their friggen rubbish. When I go into hospital this time, I’ll be in there to chill out. I’m not going to tolerate being tortured by throwing up excessively just to see how far I can go without needing IV fluids and a few sedatives to put me out of my misery for a while. Deliberately putting up with spewing up for more than two hours on purpose, because other people can’t see that I want them to stop me from vomiting sooner, is a really nice way of ensuring that I disown the entire lot of the hospital staff. If I complain that an anti-emetic isn’t working so don’t give me any more unless they know the drug(s) will work, then I fucken mean it. Give me some effective anti-emetics, or let me vomit until I bleed to death. Just please don’t keep me alive if I get too sick and I can’t be brought out of it. Hopefully I shouldn’t get that sick this time.

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