By Katie Burge, Guest Columnist

My day usually begins around 3 a.m., whether I want it to or not. No matter what time I went to bed or how tired I am, I wake up in those pre-dawn hours, overwhelmed by excruciating pain and trembling from a panic attack caused by the pain. I wake up because I hurt too bad to stay asleep.

Don't get me wrong. I'm happy enough just to wake up at all - but what I wouldn't give some time to actually get a good night's sleep.

I grab a cup of coffee and debate whether or not I can "afford" to take a pain pill that will give me some modicum of relief. I have to be extremely careful with my medication. I can't just take a dose because I'm in agony and need it. I don't get enough to allow myself that luxury. My monthly prescription for pain medication allows me to survive semi-comfortably for just over half the month.

It feels like I'm on an evil roller coaster ride, where my pain levels off for 3 or 4 hours, then spikes exponentially over the next few hours until I can take another dose.

As my day progresses, I try to choose the optimum time to take my pain medication, depending on what I need (or attempt) to accomplish for the day. I struggle to take a shower, do the dishes or fix something to eat. Some of my time is spent writing.

One of the most important things in my life right now is advocating for better treatment for all chronic pain patients. I would like to be physically able to go to the state capitol or even to Washington DC to lobby for more compassionate treatment and to convince the bureaucrats there that pain patients are not to blame for the "opioid epidemic."