Sometimes pain is not the worst thing. It's the struggle to be heard. The daily struggle in a world that keeps telling you what you need - without listening.
It was decided that I would not be given any more painkillers until the next visit. The reasons? Oh, who knows. Maybe bureaucracy, maybe principles, maybe concerns about side effects and possible addiction. No. This time it was an incorrect entry in the BTM book and poor communication.
Whatever it is, it leaves me alone with my pain. Not just the physical pain, but also the psychological pain. Because this constant justification? This eternal "Please, I need this"? It's demoralising.
There you lie, motionless, wordless, in a body that is carrying out so many small tragedies: a bleeding PEG puncture site that was injured during positioning. A torn cornea that was injured during cleaning. Bladder infections. Infected nails. And then someone cuts your finger while cutting your nails - as if it were all a macabre joke. And yet you lie there, smiling inside because you know: "There's always something."
Why am I writing this? Because it's not about me. It's about everyone who fights day after day against the system that belittles their needs. Who simply want to be heard. Who know that pain management is more than a "nice-to-have". It is the basis for maintaining dignity.
I don't need a hospital. I don't need any further invasive treatment. I just need someone to understand how important freedom from pain is. For someone to say: "You don't have to justify yourself. We are here."
Pain is not a luxury. Freedom from pain should be a right. And I defend this right - for myself, for you, for all of us.
As expected, I ran out of my painkiller at 9pm yesterday. One dose works for just under four hours. Today at 2.06 pm the lovely pharmacist delivered a top-up.
