When I was diagnosed with chronic pain at the age of five, my doctor told me I needed a spinal tap.
She gave me a prescription for oxycodone, and I took it as prescribed.
When the prescription ran out, she sent me to the emergency room.
The doctor told the nurse I was on morphine.
The nurse said, “Don’t worry, I have morphine for you.”
The doctor then asked, “What are you doing?”
I explained that I was taking a painkiller called codeine to manage my symptoms, but I didn’t want to take any more codeine because it made me sleepy and had a tendency to make me sleepy even when I wasn’t taking any.
She asked, with a bit of incredulity, “But you’re not going to sleep anyway.”
The nurse was not amused.
She told me to stop taking the morphine and I did.
After a few days, my symptoms began to improve.
But then the pain got worse, and by the time I was discharged, I was already using a new painkiller that was much more potent than the one my doctor prescribed.
My pain got even worse when I was in the emergency department.
I had to be admitted to the hospital again because I was so tired.
It took me four days to be discharged from the hospital because I had already taken the morphine.
My doctor told my family that I had chronic pain.
I told them I didn