Letters From the Labyrinth 274

Greetings from Hell, where it is suspected that I most likely will not have a quick recovery from Bells Palsy. I’m typing this on Saturday morning, coming off two and a half hours of sleep. That’s a half hour less of sleep than I’ve gotten in an entire week. It doesn’t matter what time I go to bed or how tired I am or where I sleep — a combination of absolute agony and steroids wakes me up within a few hours. As I told several friends last week, and I mean it — I’d vastly prefer catching on fire and being back in the burn ward again as opposed to this. The burn pain from the fire was fresh and vibrant and alive, and it ran in cycles thanks to morphine and oxy. The nerve pain from Bells Palsy, particularly in my ear and jaw, is a dull, abhorrent, gnawing little beetle who has burrowed deep inside and can’t be touched by drugs, and can’t be escaped by sleep or distractions. It is always there, and it does not abate. I have my next follow-up on Monday and one of the things we’ll be looking at is how to combat the pain. It has made me incredibly grumpy, and I have found myself apologizing to people all week long, particularly Mary and both my sons.

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