Life with RSD – A Life Worth Living?
This blog page talks about a mothers struggle with severe depression and a
suicide attempt. This is a true story and is not for the light hearted.
Life WIth RSD – A Life worth Living? Not Always.
I wake up in the morning after another broken nights sleep where I have been awake because of pain or asleep dreaming of the pain. The only reprieve I have in the night is the dreams that I’m dying because it’s a comfort to know that there will be no pain then.
The dreams of dying have become a fantasy. How easy it would be to make fantasy a reality. Suicide is for wimps? Suicide is the easy way out? Maybe, but it also makes perfect sense when we wouldn’t even let our animals live in this degree of disabling pain.
My constant thoughts, I will not be a burden on my family. I will not live this life to be somebody else’s problem. My husband and young daughter will miss me terribly but once I’m gone they can start to heal and live their lives again as opposed to my pain and disability rubbing salt in their wounds every single day. I only hold people back.
Watching my husband exhaust himself with full time work, household duties, caring for our daughter and caring for me is breaking my heart. Why does he not just walk away, I would if I could. Putting aside all my parental ideals and relying on TV, freezer foods and other people looking after my princess is tearing my heart out. If I can’t do this job properly, is it fair to do it at all.
I can’t do it anymore. I will not do it anymore. I’m only succeeding in dragging everyone down. I no longer care that by living out my fantasy there will be no life insurance to leave behind for my family. If you love someone you will set them free. That is what I am going to do, set all my nearest and dearest free. Just because my life is not worth living does not mean they should stop living their lives.
MST is my weapon of choice. There is no point in adding to my pain in the process, may as well see if I can take it away. My daughter is busy doing jigsaws in the lounge whilst mummy takes 5 strong morphine tablets at a time. Don’t want to take them all at once. I don’t want to scare her by having a violent reaction. Pace myself. Have a slower onset of symptoms and make an antidote more difficult to calculate. I start at 2pm and continue every 20 minutes for 31/2 hours. I’m doing this for her. My RSD has had too much impact on her life. A child of nursery age, should not have to ask Santa for mummy to get better. This is for her, isn’t it?
This fleeting question in my mind makes me think twice. Am I being selfish? Is this for my benefit and my release? Is there a chance, however small, I will get my life back and be able to live again, be a mother, wife and daughter again? Although this is all I have thought about for month’s maybe it needs some more thought. Starting on this journey has raised some new questions. But it’s too late isn’t it?
I phone my soul mate, my husband and tell him what I have done. Everything is out of my hands now. My GP is coming, an ambulance too. I need to get my daughter out of the house before these invasions. I arrange a friend to come and take her for tea, but still manage to make time for more pills. My GP and husband arrive and I lie about how many I have taken. I omit about 25 from the total. I’m still not sure in the least that I want to be an onlooker in this life of pain.
The ambulance arrives and takes me away. I’m monitored closely in the high dependency unit. I need a bolus of the antidote. A scary experience being brought back to the land of the living. I had less doubts heading in the opposite direction. All the morphine being removed from my system so quickly hurts. I have made a mistake, but was it taking the pills or summoning help. The pain is too consuming to think any more. I’m not saved yet, which is a comfort. The bolus wasn’t enough I
need an antidote infusion as well. What a waste of NHS resources when I would still rather be dead than deal with any more pain. I will just be repeating this performance in a faster acting way which won’t give me time for self doubt.
I get home and take 2 is all consuming in my mind. Quicker will be messier. No way can that be done with my cherub at home. I’m desperate for an opportunity when she is not at home. Due to a lengthy hospital admission for pain management (or suicide watch) and Christmas holidays this opportunity does not arise. A blessing in disguise.
The New Year brings with it the chance of a treatment which will reduce my pain and make life bearable again. My spinal cord stimulator surgery is scheduled for early January. By the end of January the successful surgery has brought my pain to a tolerable level. Life is worth living again and I have a lot of lost time to make up for. Thank you to everyone who has made it possible for me to be here to tell this tale. My motto and advice for all, keep fighting as you never know what the future holds and it may just be worth fighting for. It’s a gamble worth taking I promise.