Methadone, Topamax, and Gabapentin Trials

A lot has happened since I last posted, Tim went back to work after the accident, and he’s been doing much better other then the headaches. He’s still seeing doctors about it and trying to figure out the best plan of action for him. I have a lot of hope that they will find something that works for him, mixed with time’s healing properties. It’s been hard to see him in any kind of pain, in a way it was watching a fear of mine come true; Tim having to deal with a constant pain. It’s very likely that it will go away, but there’s still that fear in me that it won’t, as I’ve seen what the body can do.

In the past few months I’ve been tried on 3-4 different medications in hopes of any of them helping my pain levels, but all of them only came with horrid side effects. The worst was the drug that every doctor had been pushing on me since the beginning; Methadone. I finally caved in and decided that I needed to give it a solid try. In high doses, this drug is used to wean heavy drug users off of things like,  Heroin, Codeine, Morphine, etc. It’s als0 widely used for chronic pain treatment, and for many individuals, its a miracle drug. I read tons of raving reviews, and although I was nervous (As I am starting any new medicine) I was hopeful.

Around the end of August I started the Methadone Trials

To sum up the entire experience, the week that I was on Methadone was one of the worst times of my life. You are required to cut your pain medicine way down, the methadone blocks most of the withdrawal symptoms, so what I was left with was my body in it’s almost natural pain state. Just, complete agony. I was brought back to nights before I was treated at all when the pain was intensifying at night and I would just cry knowing there was no way to stop the pain. If you have never been in chronic pain, this will be all very hard for you to imagine..but I’ve tried to explain it as if, someone invisible was torturing every part of your body nonstop, and theres so way of stopping them. It messes with your thoughts, it exhausts you, causes intense fatigue, and gets in the way of you functioning. With my DID, I would find myself disassociating when the pain would get overwhelming. I’d stare at the wall, mouth dry from the new medicine, hurting to even turn my body over. I took 3 warm epsom salt baths every day on this week and my boyfriend (whom was suffering from a concussion) would try to talk to me and keep my mind occupied so i could stay in the bath as long as I could. He was on temporary leave this entire time and he would help me so much even though he was dealing with his own pains. He’d still offer to make me tea, or just hold me while I cried, and sometimes I think we would just hold each-other so tightly because it was all we could do.

Finally when my mother came to see me she suggested we get in touch with the doctors an tell them what was going on. My pain team decided the medicine just wasn’t right for me in the end. I was instructed to go back to my normal pain medicine dose, but even as I upped it, the negative side effects of the methadone stayed in my body for almost a week. After It was out of my system, I had some of the most productive days I’d had in a while. I was out of the house a lot and functioning really well.

August 31st I started The Topamax Trials

They put me on a new medicine very soon called ‘Topamax’. I went down another rabbit hole, spiraling down. I couldn’t sleep for more than 2 hours without getting woken up by pain, even with my sleeping medication. The cycle would exhaustingly continue until I reached morning. In the day i was constantly weak and tired. I was overheating more, Eye dryness & burning, dry mouth, etc. I would try to take naps during the day, but they would seem to not help. This was no Methadone, but It was still almost impossible to function. I called my pain pharmacist after a while of this, and on September 7th we mutually decided to give the first medicine I was tried on for nerve pain (About 2-3 years ago) another try..

 September 7th I started the Gabapentin 2nd Trail Run 

This brings us to the present. I’ve been taking this drug twice a day now, and soon will up to three times a day. My body agrees with it quite well! No noticeable negative side effects. Sometimes it can work in conjunction with my pain medicine and help it work longer and maybe even better. I noticed this more in the beginning, but maybe I need a higher dose. I have a LOT of hope for this trail, and I plan to go hard at it with my pain team guiding me.

Soft hugs

xoxo

Emily R. Inman

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“Who am I?” asked the mirror

 

Down The Rabbit Hole

My depression has been running deeper lately and I can’t seem to put a stopper on it. I feel like it’s because we live in Bloomsburg, surrounded by people who hate us, with Emily’s family.

Darren (Emily’s dad) is never supportive of Emily to the degree she deserves. He hates us being together, is never proud of her, and acts more like a semi-friend to her than anything.  Then there’s Jenn (Emily’s Evil step-mother). Jenn treats Darren, Aubrey (Emily’s Sister), (and especially) Emily and I like we’re shit. She’s an alcoholic, ignorant, and angry all of the time. Sometimes I think of Jenn and begin to clench my fists and grind my teeth. Emily has even told me she wants Darren to leave Jenn. If I were to express who the biggest problem in this whole thing is, I’d have to point to Jenn. Last time I talked to Darren, even he said, ‘Jenn is the type of person to hold a grudge for 30-years.’

Living in the same town as these people is enough to drive my depression deeper, but it doesn’t end there. Jenn and Darren have a lot of friends (mainly because Jenn has a huge white-trash family and Darren is a somewhat-musician) and all of their friends, when they see Emily and I, look at us with disgust of outright ignore us. One recent instance of this was when Kara (Darren’s 1st cousin he cheated on Sandra (Emily’s mom) with) saw me in a grocery store and gave me a look that made me feel like I killed her family, then curtly turned into a lane and hid there for a bit. I went and got Emily and told her this and she went with me to the lane. When Kara saw us together she said ‘Hi.’ with no emotion and walked off and out of our lives.

Emily takes this stuff better than me; I’m guessing because she’s been surrounded by these people her whole life and never felt like her father was close to her and truly never liked Jenn. Emily’s told me before that I came into the picture and seemed like her only chance at happiness. That felt sad for some reason, but now I get it.

~Tim

Dreams of silent sheep

dreams

Although I generally don’t like talking about my dreams, I feel like looking back on them sometimes. Dreams are the writing on the walls of the brain spoken back to us. We hear them, we see them, and we try to interpret them. I genuinely believe that no interpretation of a dream is wrong, so long as that interpretation isn’t aiming to be wrong. But what are the dreams I have? The dreams of a person with no foresight or interest in knowing the future; what are my dreams?

My dreams come at me like a heavy flood, in which I drown in them. I gasp for air as the images of my past, strangely familiar faces, and scenarios I’ve never experienced was over me. My latest dreams included: Emily’s death, a tangible string connecting all parts of my life, my abstract home with doors that lock to open, and a crisis of the existential nature. My dreams are subtle as a slap to the face. I often wake up momentarily distraught or sad. When I was really young I remember waking up happy. What ever happened to that? Does growing up take that away from us?

I’ve dreamt about pleasures that were within grasp, but my mind willed to not to achieve them. All too often I dream about loss. Loss within a dream is real, because when I wake up I know that loss is still there. My body is a cage, and my mind is the sight between the bars.

This stream of consciousness is a nightly occurrence, and, although it sounds hellish, I can’t wait to get back to sleep some nights.

~Tim

A Terrible, Beautiful Life

Lovey Dovey

Bloomsburg is a lot like hell, in the sense that you feel trapped here (if you have any sense about you). There are people I’ve met who considered it more home than any place they’ve ever been. Other’s, less fortunate I suppose, are home because they don’t know anywhere else can be home. What I’m trying to say is: It’s a small town in bumfuck nowhere that consists of people who are trapped. The people who are born and raised in the area generally don’t know how not to be shit-kickers, especially a small bunch in Buckhorn. That’s not to say that it’s entirely hopeless. Emily’s father, Darren, and step-mother, Jenn, hate me because I’m older than her by eight years and I’m also her second cousin. That doesn’t insinuate that if we had kids they wouldn’t meet social standard, but luckily we never plan to procreate. We’ve messed our lives up enough to know adding another into the mix would lead to catastrophe (maybe we’d create a little Patrick Bateman. Or something more broken)

Because I love her, and she loves me, and we live together, we’re a scandal. Emily compares us to one of the gay couples in the ’90s. I compare us to lepers. Either way, no one in this God damn town thinks what we have is worth the ground we walk on. Ironically, I don’t think this town or it’s people are worth the soles of my shoes. Beyond this town is my family in Virginia. No, I’m not a southern boy. I’m not one of those rebel flag waving, truck driving, tobacco chewing, gay bashing, George W. loving, church going kinds of guys. I’m more pragmatic and cynical than that. My family consists of my mom, who supports Emily and I, my Dad, who openly supports Emily and I, and my brother and his wife, who don’t like us being together and everything we do. Luckily my brother and step-sister are kind to no fault. Oh yeah, and there’s my best friend Will, who has some serious social anxiety.

So, I moved to Bloomsburg to work at a cell phone store and help support Emily and I, but that went south. I’m bipolar, that’s worth mentioning, and I dabbled in YouTube as The Bipolar Chef, where I cursed, cooked, and complimented myself. Bipolar disorder, maybe just for me, means I love myself, hate myself, want to die, want everyone else to die, and also am ambitious with relent.

Emily and I are currently, and will always be, in a war to stay in love without having to sacrifice people. Well, she is; I’m more willing to choose the ones I love over the ones I tolerate. I tolerated her father and step-mother, along with some other people who I forgot already, and you can only guess as to how much love those people have for me.

However, Emily is less like me than anyone, and for that she suffers quietly to maintain any kind of dwindling bond with the people she loves who hate myself and ‘us’. I am sometimes the devil on her shoulder, whispering that she should tell her father how she feels, but she is too good to listen to me when I become manic enough to do that. So, where do I begin with this? We love each other, and sacrificed so much too, but how can you express something like that?

In October, 2014, I told Darren about Emily and I. Henceforth, I was known in this town as a predator and, I guess, a pedophile (I’m not, I hate kids). Emily was 18, I was 26, I was getting ready to move to Bloomsburg in November, and what better way to show up in style than by making my friend (of the time) and his wife hate me? Sufficed to say, I do sometimes regret telling him, considering the circumstances.