I finally succumbed
to stronger painkillers for my on-going back pain even though I have managed to
get out and about a bit more in the sun.
My 'naughty' cake-making days are well and truly over since an
unforgettable experience just before I met my drug-hating ex-copper hubby,
involving one skunk- bite too many mixed with a copious amount of red wine. I
never went out of my way to actually source it myself; I just had a bit when it
was available. Now, one doesn't always
learn one's lesson as one ought and I know full well it takes longer for the
cannabis to take effect when eaten. So there was no excuse for the 'I can't
feel anything yet, I'll just have another' and another washed down with the red
stuff. By the time I'd climbed down off the ceiling, calmed my rampant paranoia
by being violently ill down the toilet and cried myself to sleep wailing into
my pillow, I had vowed never to touch the dreaded weed again. I don’t feel like
drinking any alcohol anyway, so I glide round on my own little cloud, wildly
scratching as per the comical itching powder scenes in Carry on films.
My first night on
Tramadol (9 days ago) was quite memorable in a psychotic-dream-like sort of
way. The dream included those that are dead, very much alive, at 68 Underwood Avenue
in Ash but in the 1960's, (We lived there 1992-2005). I was pretty good on the
sixties detail - type of fridge, furniture, décor and even the right milk
bottles! Uncle David, Dad and Pete were smoking, drinking and laughing
together. The dream was rounded off with some fabulous screaming habdabs from
yours truly, trying to be calmed by Mum and big Sis. It ended with me on the
other side of locked hospital door screaming for to Mum to get me out. She
turned away and cried. My dreams of the dead are usually at 68 Underwood
Avenue. Often I am living my old life with Pete and the kids and trying to summon up
the courage to tell him I'm now married to someone else. He's been dead 10
years now. Anyhow, enough of dreams; I know how tiresome it can be listening to
someone else's.
Despite weird
sensations on Tramadol, I will persist as it distracts me from the pain. Which
is how it works, although they don’t know exactly how it works…? Apparently
Tramadol is a 'centrally acting synthetic analgesic' and is a 'weak Mμ (morphine)
opioid receptor agonist' which 'induces serotonin and inhibits the reuptake of
noradrenaline.' Opioid receptors are mainly found in the brain and are 'a group
of G protein-coupled receptors with opioids as ligands' This basically means the
receptors in in the brain are drugged-up man making you high as a kite! ....
The chronic pain is still there but Opioid-type analgesic helps you to tolerate
it. It all sounds Greek to me and it is:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mu_(letter)
Further reading:
Good old Wikipedia!
Carry on scratching!!!!
J x
Just had to put a couple of Alfie photos in.....
 |
| Alfie and Sasha |
 |
| Alfie getting his vitamin D in the Sun |
No comments:
Post a Comment