Tuesday, October 20, 2020

I'm nothing but a pile of rags

I think all that's left of me is this piece of art. They took away my opiate pain medication yesterday and then I went into shivers and withdrawals for most of the afternoon. Now I'm just this burned up piece of meat lying in a bed in pain with different colored pieces of fabric on me. Some parts of my body need to be covered with fabric, and other parts need to be exposed in the fresh air. My thighs, where my skin grafts were taken from, look like margarita pizza with tomato sauce, all nicely browned with cheese on top, ready to eat. I'd like a slice of me, I look tasty. At various times throughout the night and day, like clock work, the nurses come around poking, prodding, measuring, pouring more pills down my throat. I can't do much for myself except lie here in burning agony, just a piece of art with different colored fabrics covering different parts of me. My feet are covered in plastic girders that hold my feet at 90° so they don't heal into a tiptoe position. My little pee pee is covered with a loincloth. I don't really care but they put it there because they think I might be embarrassed for people to see my pee pee, but I'm not. Yesterday I had to do a poo but I was so constipated, I hadn't pooed in six days because of the opiate pain medication, so my poo was like a brick and I had to pull out the little pieces of the poo with my fingers. It was disgusting. I can still smell the shit under my fingernails, even though my fingers have been thoroughly scrubbed. It had been fermenting in my bowels for six days. Such are the horrors that I have to endure here, pain, more pain, different pain, pain level 10, a different pain level 10, I didn't even know there were different types of pain level 10, the psychological pain, all of it unendurable, yet it must be endured regardless. And I just lie here like a piece of art covered with different colored fabrics, as the nurses and doctors and visitors come by and look at me and tell me how great I'm doing, ripping bandages and skin from me, pulling out staples, taking blood from me, putting pills in me. Just a little pile of rags made into an artform