Here is the first (or possibly only) installment. Advance warning: it is long.
Pain: the good, bad, and ugly
written 2/19/13
written 2/19/13
I’ve written before about the difference between “bad” days
and “good” days and how it isn’t quite that simple to distinguish between them.
I recently read a post by another blogger about her day with a severe pain
flare. I was struck by her ability to communicate
some of the depths involved in chronic pain.
I have previously been afraid to even try to share the details of a pain
flare for fear of worsening things by focusing on them, reliving the pain, or
being thought of as complaining by those who cannot understand the reality of
what life is like with chronic pain. Additionally, it is impossible to fully communicate
something as subjective as pain.
First, stop and think about the last time something
hurt…anywhere. How long did the pain
last? How severe was it? What did it feel like? Are these pleasant thoughts or memories? How
did you react to the pain? Were you able
to think about other things?
Now, imagine that you lived with pain every single moment of
every single day and night…for years on end with no reason to hope it will ever
go away. Maybe it will get better
someday…but then again, maybe it will get worse. Pain, day after day, night after night, no
breaks, for days, weeks, months, years.
When you hurt 100% of the time without any reprieve, it
wears on you physically. Dealing with
pain is physically exhausting and draining.
Not only is it physically exhausting, but it is also mentally
draining. Trying to convince myself to
take the next breath…and the next, and the next…just keep breathing. Further demand on mental powers are trying to
think past something so all-consuming as pain, then having to try to keep track
of which medication was taken when, when is the next dose due and of which
medication, avoiding overdosing on any of them, etc. Eventually, the physical and mental wear and
tear contribute to emotional drain.
Depression is a common “side effect” of chronic pain for many people. I have not looked at the statistics for
several years, but know the link exists.
A very recent example
from my own life: I am dealing with one of the worse pain flares I’ve known and
I’ve been through plenty in the past decade.
I came home from work after literally fighting the entire day to keep
pain managed well enough that I didn’t totally crash emotionally at work. I somehow held it off. But, once home I had absolutely nothing left
to work with. I was exhausted from
fighting all day long just to keep going through the motions, trying to get my
work done when in reality my brain was half consumed with pain and half
consumed with medication side effects. I
completely melted down once home. I went
to bed and cried the hardest I’d cried in months. What was worse, was crying made the pain
worse, but I couldn’t stop crying. No
position was comfortable…everything hurt.
Which would only start the tears again each time I’d managed to stop crying.
Limitations and loss.
These are a natural part of any chronic illness and this includes chronic
pain. I still struggle to fully accept
the fact that to a certain extent, I’ve lost part of how I always used to identify
myself. I was always strong growing up and
my parents, siblings and others would ask for help with various things. I was always reliable and dependable-if I
said I’d be somewhere, I’d be there, or if I promised to do something, I did
it. I was also a planner. I planned ahead as far as I could and in as
much detail as possible. Now…I still
try, but there are things beyond my control that often prevent me from going
where I’d planned, or doing what I’d planned.
Instead of others asking me for help, now I find myself having to ask for
help. I still dislike having to ask for help.
But the reality is I can’t even physically
keep up with my own basic housework right now.
If this flare does not let up soon, I will need to ask for help with
basics…cleaning, errands, etc. I’ve
already had to ask friends to be “on call” for me in case the medications were
not enough and I needed a ride to the ER.
Thankfully, I’m very determined and managed to head off/wait out the
pain and avoid the ER that time.
Normally, no one can get me to give up on anything. Right now, the pain has nearly convinced me
to stop trying. I am so far beyond my
own ability to do anything. Absolutely
everything now is only God carrying me.
I’m done, my physical strength is gone, pain has reduced my brain to a
fraction of its normal ability, I cannot remember anything, my attention span
is non-existent. The pain in my neck and
back are such that I cannot turn my head very far without excruciating pain, my
right arm is weak, numb, and unable to be moved or do much, writing for classes
and taking notes is difficult at best. I’m still hanging on…and somehow even still
preserving the appearance of being “normal” (whatever that is). There is no such thing as normal in the life
of some who lives with chronic pain.
There is “normal” pain, bad pain days, good pain days, new pain, old
pain, different pain, new symptoms that one never knows whether to ignore or
follow up on, and weariness…with pain…with fatigue…with having to take so much
thought and planning before doing anything. The amount of time and energy required
for therapy just to get pain controlled enough to survive the day can be
overwhelming.
Yet, through it all, God is faithful. He sustains, He is all sufficient. He gives the grace and strength to keep going when I am utterly exhausted.
Yet, through it all, God is faithful. He sustains, He is all sufficient. He gives the grace and strength to keep going when I am utterly exhausted.
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