chronic pain – Page 11 – The only certainty is bad grammar

The second worst thing about being in pain all the time.

Published: August 8, 2013 / Updated: August 8, 2013 Crystal humor, Life is hard sometimes, medium

So here’s the number two most horrible thing about being in pain all day every day (number one being the horrible pain): I’m totally gaining weight and it sucks really bad and I literally don’t know how to stop it.

And before you give me some crap line about moving more and eating less, let me explain some stuff to you.

The pain killers and the nerve medications both list weight gain as a possible side effect. Because of course I didn’t get the random chronic condition that comes with medications that cause unexplained weight loss.

And by “weight gain as a possible side effect” I mean, like I’ll go to the doctor on a Thursday and weigh one thing and then I’ll eat like normal amounts of food (maybe even a little less than normal if I feel particularly crappy) and do normal amounts of things and by my next doctor’s appointment on Monday I will have gained four solid pounds.

And yes, I know that part of this is because I spend so much time with my new BFF, the couch. But that’s because when I do things, like say, shower, or walk around a grocery store, I feel like death afterward.

And so, no, I’m not really burning off any calories. But when I do burn them off, I want to cry and die and drug myself to sleep.

I also know that my eating habits haven’t been the best lately.

But I’m just going to throw it out there that I feel like I’m dying more often than I don’t, and that kind of thing screws with your head in ways you wouldn’t expect, and so yes, many times, when I eat, I’m like, “Dude, whatever, give me another taco. I’m probably going to die tomorrow anyway.”

Like, honestly, I really think I’m going to die tomorrow, pretty much everyday. That’s how much pain I’m in.

Because this is my blog and I want to be honest in this space, I’m just going to go ahead and confess that since February I have literally gained over 40 pounds.

In six months I have gained 40-freaking pounds.

What the what?

I talked with my neurologist, and he switched me from one nerve medication to another, hoping it would help, but I’m still gaining like a pound a day.

Like seriously, I gained 10 pounds while I was on a mission trip, eating sandwiches and one scoop of noodles for dinner every night and painting houses all day.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, everyone in my life has been super amazing about it. My boyfriend has not mentioned it even once, not even in passing. And, neither has any of my family members. And I know that all the kids in my (soon-to-be former) youth group love me dearly, because they are so amazing that I seriously get the impression that they don’t even notice.

But I notice. And my stupid, stupid clothes notice. And the stupid, stupid scale at the doctor’s office notices.

So yesterday, I was like, screw this, I’m going to try to do something. And so I went for a walk.

According to my cell phone, I went 3.89 miles.

I mean, ya, when I came back home and sat on my couch, it felt like my ribs were literally going to explode off of my body because I was in that much pain. But the walk itself wasn’t so bad, what with the help of a the prescription pain pills and whatnot.

Anyway, as most of you know, I’m moving in with my in a couple weeks, and I’m hoping the change will help me eat a little healthier and walk a little more. (My mom seriously loves walks).

In the meantime though, I’m just trying to find lots of reasons to wear yoga pants, because nothing else I own fits me anymore.

Just another doctor’s appointment

Published: July 8, 2013 / Updated: July 8, 2013 Crystal Life is hard sometimes, medium, Pain

I’m not exactly sure what I expected to happen today at the doctor’s office.

Honestly, I genuinely thought I wasn’t expecting anything at all.

But when I looked at the man who’s been treating me for the last few months, and told him that I had indeed quit my job at the church, and would be moving in with my mom who lives near Rockford and that I needed a referral, I guess I just thought he’d have some sort of reaction.

But he didn’t really. Or, well, he didn’t have the reaction, I guess I wanted him to have.

He just gave me the same stupid nod he’s been giving me all along.

The same stupid nod he’s been giving me at every appointment for the last four months, no matter what the situation was. The same stupid nod he has used to say hello or to pathetically try to reassure me when my eyes were filled with tears of desperation, or to falsely tell me he was working as hard as he could when I couldn’t sit upright long enough to ask even one question.

That same stupid nod.

I don’t know why I expected anything different this time.

He said it was probably going to be a good thing for me that I’m going to be quitting my job at the church and moving in with mom. I’m assuming it’s because he thinks the extra rest will be good for me, but he never actually articulated that.

He rambled on about how I would need to request my records once I got settled in with new doctor and specialist out there. He told me how the doctor or the institution couldn’t request the records, but how I had to request them myself. And how I could probably fax a request, or if it was easier I could call in a request, but either way, I would have to make the request.

And then, because he was at least self-aware enough to know that he was rambling, he apologized for sounding so convoluted about something that neither one of us really cared about.

Then, he just said he’d be available if I had any other questions before I moved, and he scurried out of the room, like he was relieved to be getting rid of me.

I guess I can’t really blame the guy. Everything he tries to do to fix me fails miserably.

It’s just, I realized, in that moment, as my eyes started to tear up, and I was suddenly hyper aware of the constant stabbing pain in my lower right ribs, that I had hoped for something more from this man.

I hoped that when I told him I was quitting my job at the church, and leaving behind one of my true passions, that I would get some sort of a reaction. That maybe then he would finally understand the severity of the situation. And maybe he would suddenly remember some new treatment, or pull some magic pill out of thin air that he hadn’t mentioned before and he would try it on me, and it would work and I would be better and I wouldn’t have to leave the church after all.

Or maybe he would apologize. He would cry with me, and hold my hand and tell me how sorry he was that he couldn’t help me find relief after all this time. That he would tell me that he knew how hard it must be for me to go through so much at such a young age, and how being in pain all the time must be near impossible for me to deal with. And he would tell me he wished he could have done more to help me.

But he didn’t do do any of those things. He just nodded, and then he had his resident refill a prescription for a sleeping pill I’m on.

So I grabbed my huge medical binder, my tablet with all my questions for the appointment listed on it, and my purse and walked out the door with tears in my eyes.

And it hit me.

I really am quitting my job at the church and moving in with mom.

I’m finally getting some sleep, so I don’t want to kill myself anymore

Published: May 3, 2013 / Updated: May 3, 2013 Crystal True thoughts on pain

So, sleep is freaking important.

And, I’m finally taking some medicine that is strong enough to overcome the stabbing pain in my right ribs and help me get some of it every night. YAY!

I mean, sure, whatever, I sleep for like 12 hours straight no matter how many alarms I set. But hey, at least I’m not suicidal anymore.

Seriously, it was those long nights awake in pain that were driving me down to Hell. When each long minute seemed like an hour and each night seemed like an eternity and the pain was at its worst and I was all alone.

That’s when I couldn’t think clearly.

That’s when I would lose all hope.

And it didn’t really get much better when the sun came up, because functioning on no sleep makes you insane. It just does.

So I would spend all day, still in horrible pain, dreading the night time, thinking about suicide. Laying on the floor in various places, because I was so tired and in so much pain that I couldn’t sit upright.

I remember laying on the floor in a dining room and being able to see into a bathroom where a jug of Drano sat on the floor. And I remember thinking, maybe I could just drink that and this whole thing would be over.

It was awful.

I kept clawing for help, reaching out in anyway I knew how. But I didn’t know what exactly it was that was making me crazy. And I assumed it was the horrible, daily pain. And I couldn’t seem to get help for that.

I did know I needed to get the sleep thing figured out though. I knew, for example, that it was at least a third of the reason I would cry for the first hour after I got to work everyday. (The other two-thirds being equal parts horrible stabbing pain, and a cocktail of medications screwing with my brian).

Unfortunately, Advil PM is just not strong enough for me right now, but thankfully, my doctor finally put me on 50 mg. of amitriptyline.

And I’m finally getting some sleep every single day.

And I’m finally thinking just a little bit more clearly.

The other good news about that medication, is that it’s also supposed to help with my pain. I mean, I don’t think it really has yet, but I’ve been told that’s going to happen, so YAY!

I also went to see another doctor yesterday who put me on an anti-viral medication, just in case this is shingles without a rash. And he paired it with a steroid pack so that it’s more effective and so that I can get better at hitting baseballs and eventually play for the Cubs.

If the anti-viral/steroid thing works, I could be cured before the huge candy show I have to cover for my job at the end of May. And let me just tell you that I really, really, really, really want to work that show with all of my sugar-coated heart.

If that doesn’t work, well, then I’m pretty much screwed. And I do not use the word screwed on here lightly.

Let’s just say visions of The Mayo Clinic are dancing in all my doctor’s brains right now. And I thought they would think that place was like some sort of drastic measure. But no. They were like, you should probably make an appointment now just to be safe. And I was like, Crap.

Anyway, I hope the anit-viral medication works.

It probably will.

And now that I’m getting enough sleep, even if it doesn’t, I won’t get so defeated that I’ll end up killing myself. So yay.