A poem about how pain can feel like it takes over your identity. Written in a flare. Any Spoonies who can relate, please make yourself known in the comments!
It’s like the worst Blind Date episode ever. I don’t want any one of the three mystery bachelor drugs, you can all get in the sea.
More often than not, we chronic pain warriors have another huge fight on our hands: getting the right treatment. It’s a long old slog. Like Frodo on his perilous quest, the path is twisted and arduous, and you’ve usually got one dim-witted friend dragging you back pining about potatoes, a slimy little creature intermittently spitting venom at you, and a whole host of characters to meet before you get one treatment to cure them all.