Shattered

Yesterday was one of the worst days of my life. My fiancé, with whom I’ve had the most amazing relationship ever for more than six years now, overdosed on his pain medication. He’s home, now, but I am all but shattered.

He has cancer in the back of his mouth, and he can’t swallow. They’re putting in a feeding tube on Wednesday.

He’s got chronic pain due to cervical spine issues, so he is already addicted to opioids. His doctors have been having trouble managing his pain, so they sent him home on Friday with Fentanyl patches and liquid morphine.

He was sort of humming in his sleep and snoring like he’d had marbles in his mouth. When I tried to wake him, he just kept humming. His brother called 911, and the ambulance came and took him to the hospital.

At 4:00 AM, he called me to come get him. He was still very altered, but he told me he felt perfectly normal.

On the way home, he accidentally admitted that he’d had two patches on.

When we got home, he asked me where his morphine was. The paramedics told me that I should be dosing him, so that he doesn’t forget, and accidentally take too much, so I told him that I had it. He demanded it back. Then he turned into a person I’ve never met before, but one who reminded me of an ex, of my childhood, of anything but the kind, loving man he’s been for the past six years. He screamed at me. Veins popped out in his neck. He told me “things are gonna get ugly around here,” which is almost word-for-word what my last partner said to me that lead to our breakup.

Today, he still seems altered, to me. I tried to talk to him about yesterday, but he never apologized. In fact, he told me that I just didn’t understand.

He had suggested that we go to Sushi earlier in the day, which I took as an olive branch since he can’t eat and Sushi is my favorite. But when I was ready for dinner, he said it wasn’t a good idea because he was upset with me.

I don’t know this man, and I don’t know if I can take four more weeks of this. I don’t know enough about morphine to know if this kind of behavior is to be expected, or if he’ll ever come back from it.

I’ve never loved nor been loved like this before, and I can’t stand the thought of living without him, but the man in my bed tonight is not him.