Welp. I ran out of medication for my chronic back pain and neuropathy a couple months ago and ended up at the ER (for a psuedo-seizure probably caused by stress/withdrawal, for the record I was prepared to scream about the pain at home until the new insurance approved my pm). After hours in the same position (like fucking seriously my BP is high right now, we all know it, can we abscond with the goddamm tether for 10 minutes so I can stretch?) I was so crazy that I tried to explain to the poor attending that though I looked fine, my nerve endings were doing a great job convincing my brain that we were being ripped in half by a shark, and all my blood was acid, and please just let me go lie on my floor at home because brain damage be damned, today is not the day for a CT scan. Eventually my drug-seeking behaviour was deemed to be justified, and I gifted with an injection of such pure golden bliss that I moaned aloud involuntarily. I literally burst in to relieved tears.

And this thread makes me so sad, because if for any reason I show up at the ER asking for pain relief, it's because circumstances have conspired to fuck me over so thoroughly that I have literally no other choice and no more will to power through, but I will probably never feel that kind of relief again.

If it's for the greater good, then I will suffer. And of course, pain management techniques are going to have to evolve, so I could be feeling better than ever 10 years from now! But I can't help but feel bitter in the transition.