Missing In Action

It’s been a very emotional week for me, not least because my doc has had me cut back on my Oxycontin to half of my previous dose, although I also have 5mg Oxycondone I can take for breakthrough pain.  I’ve done this step-down twice already since ending chemo, and I agree that it’s necessary to reevaluate every now and then to make certain I’m taking the minimum I need.

But I think right now I’m below the minimum amount.

Max & Gerry on a tour of Gustavus Adolphus

I’m exhausted from not sleeping, sleeping’s been difficult because there’s so much pain.  The 5mg doesn’t seem to address the pain as well as the 20mg does (duh) and the extra relief I get from medical marijuana just isn’t cutting it.  It’s been a hard week, and emotionally, I’m feeling very drained and not terribly resilient.

Since visiting my friends last weekend I’ve been missing Gerry like crazy.  I’m sure it was going to place where we’d gone many times, and hearing him talked about with so much love by Myrna and Bob.  Bob said Gerry had one of the best political minds, and humor minds, he met.  That is such a lovely compliment, because I know how much Gerry would have enjoyed it.  He was the funniest man I ever knew.  And he loved politics.

It’s almost as if my mind put off mourning Gerry full out until I got far enough past my “clean” CT Scan so that I had enough ‘worry space’ in my brain to handle it.  There’s only so much one can worry about at one time, right?

After Gerry died in October I was in shock for quite a long time.  Then just when I was beginning to wrap my mind around the fact he wouldn’t be coming home, I was hit with severe sepsis and was put in the ICU until they figured out it was my port that had become infected.  I know I was closer to death during that week than I’d ever been, and to be honest there were times that week when I wanted to say, “Screw it.”

But I couldn’t, because I have two kids, and because I just couldn’t.  For better or for worse my body fought hard, even if my mind and heart weren’t in the battle.

Today Max was walking around “wearing” Kitty Nitro around his neck, looking for all the world like a taller, thinner, MORE bearded version of his dad.

6 thoughts on “Missing In Action

  1. Annie, I’m so sorry for your loss. You had the best husband and I’m sure your memories will be good ones. One thing I’ve learned about pain fro. My daughter who has been on opiates for 3 years. First ozy, then fentanyl and morphine. She has recently in the last year gotten off fentanyl, oxy and morphine which was hell. She has one patch left to detox. I’m encouraging you at some point to find a good pain clinic and work with them . Sleep deprivation is a huge deal so I hope your docs can help you with this recovery. You’re in my prayers. You are so strong!!!

  2. Gerry’s memory is a blessing. Seeing him carried on in Max is a double edged sword, but we’re all so lucky Max and Andy had him during their growing up years. Be well, my dear Annie, be well.

  3. Sweet Annie, you didn’t have the, dare I say, luxury of embracing and working your grief when Gerry died. Your mind and your soul realize that there is time now. I suspect this wasn’t the best time to cut the oxy; the pain and sleeplessness make you more vulnerable. Consider all the ways in which you have been wounded over the past year, how much flesh has been made raw and is now healing but still tender and delicate. Give yourself permission to feel what you feel. And remember that the grief process is not linear; it comes and goes and manifests as it chooses to. Be gentle with yourself. I am holding you in my heart.

  4. I learned the hard way after my knee replacement that the war on drugs is really the war on patients. Legit post-op and cancer patients are caught in the cross-fire and as a result doctors aren’t able to prescribe the pain relief they need. Alot of needless suffering IMHO.
    I hope you get it figured out soon.

  5. Grief is a singular journey that takes the time it needs.
    I wish I had had a chance to know Gerry. From your stories and descriptions of him,
    I think we might’ve been friends.
    Sending you loads of love and positive energy!

  6. I’m nowhere near as elegant as the other wonderful commenters, but I got two things:
    1. Hugs, Just. Hugs.
    2. Girl! You do you! However you do it!
    Love you,
    Joan aka fuguestateknits

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