Addictive Pain

Chapter 5 - Mother Knows Best?

The Lord and his mum called the ward every 15 minutes each for 2 hours until finally around 23:00 I told them to stop. The nurses had informed me that the on call doctor would be with me shortly. I think he and his mum had sort of shaken the nurses up a little with their insistent calling, I also let my parents know and all in all it was a great relief. Another 2 hours later and I saw the doctor who infuriatingly told me that he couldn't prescribe me any of the medication I was on at Kings and could only give me ibuprofen and paracetamol. To say I was livid and in a lot of pain would be a strict understatement. It was a bank holiday weekend so I had to wait until Tuesday before I could be re-prescribed anything. I don't remember much about those first few days in my local hospital, the pain I was in has sort of clouded my mind, I like to think it's my minds way of shutting out the agony I was in.

Over the next week I tried various painkillers with the pain management team. From Morphine to Oxycodone to Fentanyl (on a PCA - Patient-controlled analgesia) nothing seemed to work. By all rights the Fentanyl should have knocked me off my arse, pumping me full every 5 minutes but it didn't. Eventually the pain management team had to write to the Board of Directors to get them to prescribe me Ketamine again as it, at the time, was not supplied in the Hospital as a regular drug. My friends and family were fighting for me every step of the way as was he. He visited me again and just sat my by bed trying to keep me calm as I fitted from the pain. He was an amazing help and knew exactly how to calm me down. It was nice to know people had my back. For so many years it had been just me and my 2 best friends against the world. My parents and I had prior to the accident had a little bit of an estranged relationship but by God did they have my back, it was just a nice reminder that when all is said and done they'd always fight for me. My mum had even began trying to stop dead naming me and misgendering me. Sure, she still got it wrong sometimes but she was trying and that meant the world to me, more than words will ever be able to describe. It meant more to me than any guy ever would, after all, growing up my mother and I had been super close. It was only when i started being a teenager that we drifted apart and in all honesty I think that's because I was pretending not to be trans and point blank lied to her for so many years. No matter how many times she'd ask if I wanted to be a girl I would always say No. That was until I was 16 at least....

When I was a young teenager I would steal my sister's clothes, shoes and my mums makeup. They'd all be out watching my sisters sporting games and I would be home alone. I knew I was 'different' but I'd never heard of the term 'Transgender' before so I just did what felt comfortable. I'd do my hair and makeup perfectly (thank you YouTube) and I would dress up and take pictures of myself in my sister's clothes and shoes (I still have the pictures to this day). It would feel right and I knew something was different but I wasn't sure what. After one such afternoon of frolicking I uploaded the pictures from my  digital camera to my iPad and began the editing process, I soon finished and left my IPad downstairs and quickly got dressed back into boy clothes, I felt proud of myself as I'd remembered every place that the clothes and shoes went - leaving no trace that I had used them. I must have been about 15 at the time. But I thought I was super crafty and wouldn't get caught. By fucking God was I wrong.

Later that afternoon I was called downstairs, thinking nothing of it I pranced down and was met with my mother and sister looking at my IPad. My sister was told to leave me and my mum alone and I knew, i just knew what they'd seen. My sister got up and left, not before giving me a look, cold enough to kill. My mum sat me down and I asked if I wanted to be a girl. I panicked and said "of course not". I swore up and down that I didn't want to be a girl and that I'm a boy. I was quizzed some more and thought I had satisfied my mum. She explained how it was a huge violation of her's and my sisters spaces and that I was never to do it again. I agreed (with crossed fingers) and we never spoke on it again.  My sister never forgave me for that episode.  As I type this, I can't help but wonder if my life would have changed for the better if I'd just been honest from the start.

Months later I was 16 and ended up in a psychiatric ward (whole other story). Here in the UK we have levels of mental health care. Primary (1) Secondary (2) and Tertiary (3). The ward I was on was a level 3. Once I left there I was sent to a special school (we all called it rehab school) that was a level 2.5 and it was a blast. Super chilled and with some lovely people (apart from when someone stole money from my bag). That's where I met my first proper boyfriend. Once day I was watching my favourite YouTuber called Gregory Gorgeous (SORRY FOR THE DEADNAME). Gregory (GiGi) came out and transgender and explained that she was actually a girl trapped in a boy's boy and that she was in fact transgender. It's like something clicked in my head and I just knew, I KNEW that this was me. Like a long awaited penny had dropped. All my friends at rehab school all supported me as did my friends at the time, I told my therapist at rehab school and she was totally supportive. I agreed that I would tell my parents as they'd need to sign the consent forms for me to see the Tavistock Clinic but by God did that fill me with dread.

When I got home one evening I found my parents sat by the pool drinking wine and chatting. I steeled my nerves and walked up to them and told them I needed to tell them something. I don't remember much from the conversation but what I do remember, and will always remember, is my mum saying "You're too young to know what you want, you're a boy  not a girl and besides, you're about to start work and they won't allow that". To say I was gutted would be an understatement. It took me huge strength to be honest with them and they'd just rejected me. It damn near destroyed me. It took me many more years to pluck up the guts to speak to my parents again

Anyways, I've gone off on a huge tangent, where was I... oh yeah, hospital at 24.  Once they finally got the ketamine and fentanyl mixture perfect I actually started to improve. I had my first 6 week follow up with the Surgeon, he interestingly told me that I was meant to have been 6 weeks with no weight baring at all. So, all the times I was made to try to stand up was incredibly wrong and could very well have caused more damage. He luckily had requested that more x-rays to be done and it turned out that I was so thin the damage had not been bad. Yet again another fuckup of the NHS. I quite often think that's the reason why I've got chronic pain but no scans, and I've had many, have been able to prove my theory.  I was told that I could start weight bearing carefully on one leg now.

When the Lord and his mum found out they were ready to charge into battle and instructed me to keep documentation of everything as they thought it might be worth going legal over. I told them I would but never did, I don't know, I just figured the NHS had enough bad debt to be dealing with and at the time money was the last thing on my mind. But, I appreciated all of his efforts to help in any which way he could.

Soon after this, the Lord and I were talking in my private room (luck of the draw that it was private). We'd been kissing and talking, about what I don't know but some actions may have gone beyond kissing.... It was all consensual and only lasted about 30 seconds or before he pulled out of my mouth, too nervous at getting caught which I totally get. I can't talk for him but I was horny as fuck. Months in hospital with only the occasional kiss had left me a tad pent up but even for those 30 seconds or so I felt another click in my heart, like he really was imprinting himself on my heart. I'd love to sit here and wax poetically about his penis but let's be honest, who wants to hear that? I finally felt happy, like truly happy, that I'd managed to get the attention of a drop dead gorgeous but also incredibly caring individual. Soon after this though, things went downhill and by God did it go from bad to worse...