Yup, that's right. I got nothing. (TW bad doctor stuff, and pain) (opps changed the title now the first sentence makes no sense. Originally I called it 'I got nothing to complain about.')

This week went well. We spent more time talking to each person in the group. It was interesting to listen to the wide variety of experiences. Nothing said directly but implied.

It went well. I'm learning more skills.

We talked about different feelings and their usefulness. Apparently fear means I care for myself. I'm amusingly realizing that I am not afraid of doctors and nurses, but I am afraid of the pain they caused me. It's a deep fear of pain. That I'll basically do anything to avoid the pain, or the potential that they'll increase my suffering. Which is part of what happened. I was in discomfort from time to time, like 5 days out of a month, and after they did what they did, it put me into constant horrible pain everyday (well 98% of days) for 8 months, which they kept telling me I was in that pain along. I wasn't. It wasn't until they did the wrong test on me, that I was in that much pain.

As I tried to explain, the more they didn't listen. I couldn't even get the right drugs, because no one believes you in post op when your heart rate is high and you keep telling them it's 8.7. Turns out certain opioids don't work on me. They make me sick, but I still feel and I still care about feeling. I eventually started lying about how much pain I was in, because I got tired of "But that's not possible, you shouldn't be that much pain." I had been post op for over 6 hours, hearing the same thing, trying my hardest to stop sobbing and hyperventilating. So I lied. I stopped taking the drugs, because it wasn't doing anything other than effecting my vision. I eventually passed out in my room. Woken up several times because I had fever. At least that existed, unlike pain which must have been imaginary.

I respect that pain is difficult to diagnose, but when someone tells you the drugs aren't working, maybe offer them another option. My nurse was good at changing nausea medication because it took 3 different ones to get me to stop throwing up, so why not for pain? Morphine immunity (wrong word I assume) runs in the family, basically all of us have just given up on trying to explain this. Apparently it's not a real thing. It results in a lot of prescriptions getting thrown out or not picked up, because it does nothing but cause vomiting. Apparently, the person taking the drug is incapable of knowing that it's working. The solution was to give me ativan, which does nothing but make my face numb. This surprises all my friends who are built like tanks and ativan makes them sleep all day.

You want me free of pain give me Tylenol 3, advil and aspirin. I know I shouldn't take it because it thins my blood, (I have thin blood), but it works better than morphine. The best days were when they gave me that combo, they weren't suppose to because it's not good for me. But I was out of pain.

I was switched to Percocet. Percocet works, kinda, in the sense that you are in horrible pain but you don't give a shit about anything. I'd forget to eat on percocet. I'd forget everything. I'd be eating a small applesauce and it would take me 2 hours because I forgot what I was doing and stared into nothing.

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But what would I know? I'm just a weakling.

Eventually the one doctor admitted that it was likely I could have been put in pain from the procedure (not the surgery, but the wrong procedure they did to me) and told me that he could have give me a shot to solve it. But that was after my surgery, and for 8 months he kept brushing me off. So, what good that do me? All I learned was it could have been prevented, but I wasn't listened too. No matter how many times I said it, it wasn't heard until 8 months later.

That's a hell of a mind fuck.

It's like screaming in room that the house is on fire, explaining where the fire is, how it started and then have everyone tell you, there's no fire. After they demolish the house, they admit, ya there was a fire.

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I still have some problems with pain. But I can't go back. I'd rather have a manageable pain, then risk them torturing me again and ruining my quality of life. I know it will get worse. I know I'll need medical treatment again. But I can't risk being hurt. I'm trying, but I can't.

So my self care, and self protection is also damaging me. At least it's a damage I get some say in.

And as soon as you cry and freak out, no doctor takes you seriously because you are just attention seeking and annoying. They don't get that you are afraid. Maybe there's some doctor out there that will get it, but I haven't met that one. People tell me about these doctors, nurses and surgeons, and I read about them, but they might as well be unicorns. Or I'll get them on their off day.

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Other than thinking about that, I didn't say what caused me pain, just that I was afraid of it. It was smooth sailing in this week's class. AND the validation was more organic and felt sincere. It was good.

I decided to give myself an assignment and do a little exposure therapy. I took the bus past the building that caused part of my trauma. I might try to step foot in one of those buildings. There's multiple buildings that have caused me trauma. I think just going by it right now is good enough. I was inspired by another GT member who went to emerg as part of their exposure therapy.

I did wander the building that I am okay with. I usually try to get to the group room quickly so I don't have to see any of the doctors and other medical professionals I know. Even though I know, it's unlikely I'd see them.

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As my friend pointed out, they've probably already forgotten you.