Morphine, a friend

The Easter weekend was a mixed bag for me. I had a pretty good Sunday, having lunch with a friend who is also a near neighbour. We ate on the Quay in the beautiful hot sunshine. I had had some very unpleasant texts from Mr Ebsworth on Good Friday evening. They were lies and his inventions, bu that makes no difference to my nervous system. I could not relax.

My back is where all tension resides, the raw nerve endings and torn muscles seize up, and at the worst feel like a red hot poker is on the left hand side of my spine, in the small of my back. My back pulls to the left and my left leg and arm start involuntary movements, so the Monday evening I asked for an ambulance in order to get pain relief. I had hoped this could take place at home, but as a single paramedic turned up in a car that wasn’t going to happen. So despite my explanations about my disease, I found myself in A&E, brightly lit and very noisy.

I was given some morphine, only enough to slowly reduce the pain. Not enough to relax me, just enough to be able to make a place to go to in my head during quiet periods. I got no sleep nor even a doze.

After seven hours a doctor came to see me. He wanted to do an x-ray and ECG to rule out a heart attack. If I could have laughed I might have. I explained that an X-ray was not possible due to my muscle spasms and that he had taken an oath to do no harm. I’d already gone through enough harm being treated as though my nervous system is normal.

I’ve slept for three days now and my pain has gradually subsided.