Rock Bottom

(Warning: the following post contains images and descriptions of severe grossness. If you think it's bad to read about, try experiencing it.)


Worst. Week. Ever.

True to the warnings, the pain is my mouth has continued to worsen despite the end of treatment. To deal with it, I was taking the prescribed liquid codeine every four hours. One of the side effects, drowsiness, was immediate and helped me sleep. The other side effect, constipation, was slower to take effect. In preparation, I was also carefully taking the prescribed laxative and stool softeners. As it turns out, it would have been more effective if I had been prescribed a midwife.

On Sunday, the constipation arrived. It was more painful than any of the mouth pain I've experienced -- immediate and unrelenting. Between convulsions on the toilet, I stopped taking the codeine and continued with the anti-constipation stuff. What followed was a gruelling 72 hours of hell as I dealt with both the full-blown mouth pain and the far worse ordeal of trying to pass objects the size of tennis balls and five times as dense.

At one point on Monday, my writhing pulled loose my J-tube from my stomach by a good four inches. Jeanette rushed me down to the nursing clinic at PMH where they determined the tube was still properly in place internally (thank goodness) and re-secured its external dressing.

Today, at last, the worst seems to have passed (so to speak). I finally have the strength to sit at the computer again and am even managing to do so some laundry. For my own sanity, I need to believe that this episode is the worst things will get and that it's all uphill from here. Rock bottom is neither a place I want to dwell nor a nickname I want to keep.