Tag Archives: pain

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Spoke too soon. Again.

This is such a sick joke. I actually thought the last few days, maybe this is the beginning of the end. I think I’m going to get better now… What’s wrong with me? Am I going to spend the next 20 years thinking this is over every time I have a day when I’m able to move? I’m so angry about the tease. I’m so angry about the Catch-22: I can’t move without hurting myself and, if I don’t move, I’m hurting myself.

I had a horrible night’s sleep. Didn’t fall asleep until nearly 2am, had nightmares, awoke constantly, had drenching sweats. Today I feel like a truck hit me. All of my muscles feel inflamed. I’m hunched, I’m hobbling, I’m creaking, I’m wheezing. My spine is rebar, my eyes are embers, my head is a rotten apple.

But my mood isn’t plummeting into despair. It’s just sitting in anger, which, for me, is much more manageable. My stages of grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance) seem to be mixed up. You’re meant to go from depression to acceptance. I’m going backwards. I was in depression last month, denial yesterday and today I’m angry, so let’s get straight to bargaining: I would give a limb to be out of pain. I would give two limbs to not have this disease. No contest. I will never, ever work myself close to death again and neglect all my friends and family. I will do nothing but altruistic work for the rest of my life, if this is taken away. I could bargain for days.

Now I hope we can just jump over depression and get straight to acceptance.

 

 

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Diet… Day 51. Wash-Out… Day 12.

Last night I drempt that I had been out socialising with friends and I started to crash. I couldn’t get back home, so I was trying to get my husband to find me a hotel room… I had to lie down… I was going to collapse… please help me, it’s dark and wet and where is everyone?… I just need a bed for a few hours… I don’t want to die… And then rats attacked me. They were fat and wet and squeaking and hanging off of me everywhere… I woke up panting while I was being eaten by the rats. I was scared shitless and didn’t know where I was and my sheets were wet from sweat.

I have, however, been feeling a little stronger the last few days. Not strong, but stronger. My headache has eased up enough to be manageable with epsom salt baths, the tens unit and icy hot spray on my neck. The pain and stiffness in my back doesn’t have me in tears and the exhaustion seems to be controlled. Just a normal ME/CFS exhaustion, not a crippling, slurring, crawling-up-the-stairs exhaustion. I have a new symptom driving me batty: constant pins and needles in my right foot for the last 3 days. It moved into my calf last night, but doesn’t seem to be there today. I have had this before in my hands and I have the Raynaud’s issues in my feet, but I can’t remember this maddening constant tingling before.

My days have become very predictable. I am up at around 8:30am, after about 7 to 7.5 hours sleep. I have GREEN tea now and, for breakfast, homemade granola with almond milk and a smoothie (today was pear, pineapple, strawberry smoothie with flax seed, coconut milk and walnuts) while I do some “work” on the computer (pay bills and curse Comcast and Verizon, see how our budget is going, answer emails, apply for disability but get overwhelmed and stop, try to make an Amazon Fresh shopping list because I can’t go grocery shopping and decide it’s too much energy and too expensive, research ME treatments and start to bang my head off the wall, research MRI stories and wish I had the option of Valium, write in my blog etc.). Then I warm up my muscles with a bath or the hot tub, do some stretches and then a meditation, which I always try to turn into a nap. Then lunch (usually a salad or soup or tuna and I’m currently addicted to Terra Chips) and maybe some house chores if I’m able. Maybe some reading or some more computer time. Another meditation (rest before and after activity, always. Resting is considered only lying down with eyes closed, awake, meditating or sleeping, says Dr. Bested). Walk around the house, if I’m able and then the evening with my husband, having dinner (whatever is leftover or whatever he makes because I’m virtually never able to stand for long in the evening without hitting that pain and exhaustion wall), watching a movie ~ whatever I can manage. Another meditation if I’m not going to bed early. Most of the time I’m in bed at 7 or 8pm, reading/researching. Some of the time I can stay upright until 9 or 10pm. I usually don’t turn off the lights until after 11pm.

My sister-in-law sent me a Stretching for Beginners DVD and usually anything anyone buys for me is too advanced because I’m more decrepit than they realised, but this DVD is good! I have done the sitting, standing and lying stretches ~ one on each day that I’m up for it. So far, it has felt good and I’m so proud of me. And I’m ecstatic that I haven’t pulled a muscle doing it. Maybe I’m finally learning. I walked five laps around my house yesterday. I’ve been wearing a pedometer this week and have taken between 1,700 and 2,200 steps each day. I realise this is not a lot — my dog park visits alone were over 2,000 steps — but, those numbers are including 400 to 500 steps walking laps around my house. There are many, many days when I’m not able to do that and my pedometer would say more like 1,000 steps at the end of the day, so I’m happy. I want so desperately to double, triple those steps. I want to go outside and run as hard as I can for as long as I can. On top of everything else I have had to endure, the patience needed to deal with this disease is mind-blowing. Every time I have to go upstairs or downstairs, I think, “What can I take with me?” so I don’t waste any trip. Every movement is about conservation, every day is planned, every physical feeling analysed to ascertain whether it was caused by too much of some activity or emotion. Damn, I shouldn’t have done laundry… I knew I shouldn’t have chopped those vegetables… If only I hadn’t lost my temper… From now on, I must sit down when I dry my hair…

My mood is much better, which is probably why I’m feeling stronger and my symptoms seem a bit more manageable. I think my Mother and brother being here helped give me strength. Plus, I got to Skype with both of my best friends in the last week and that is like a pain killer. Literally ~ people can be pain killers. It’s amazing.

Something else helped nudge me from defeat into fight-mode: I read that there are multiple studies putting the average age of death of ME/CFS patients in the late 50s. That’s about 30 years too early. On the one hand, I’m very grateful that I might have 20 more years to live and, on the other hand, I’m devastated that I might only have 20 more years to live. I’m not emotional over it. It just caused me to think, Alright, time to get over this now because I’m not going to die in my 50s, dammit. Obviously, I’m not just going to “get over it”, but it made the fight come out a little. I can’t just accept that this is permanent because I don’t want to be one of those statistics. So, time to heal. Seriously.

My back is killing me, I have to stop typing now. So, a moment of gratitude: I am grateful every single day that I am not worse off. I am grateful for walking and talking and typing. I am grateful for eating and drinking and showering myself. I am grateful I was never in a motor vehicle accident, never got fungal meningitis from a steroid injection, never got shot or stabbed or beaten up. Some people are much more… oh, ever so much more… oh, muchly much-much more unlucky than you!

It’s a troublesome world. All the people who’re in it
are troubled with troubles almost every minute.
You ought to be thankful, a whole heaping lot,
for the places and people you’re lucky you’re not!

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Forces pulling from the center of the earth again…

My Mother, in an effort to give advice on things that could help my mood and mental fortitude, pointed out that there is never music playing in the house and reminded me that my number one rule of life, written in fading marker on an A4 page taped to her kitchen wall, was: NEVER BE WITHOUT MUSIC. I glowered at her. “I’m too exhausted to go downstairs and find a cd.” “It might help bring some joy back into your life”, she suggested. I went back to grimacing silently in pain.

A little later, she tried again: “You could even listen to music on your phone?” “Yeah, I do, but it just makes me emotional and I’m trying NOT to be emotional. Every time I’m upset, my symptoms get worse. Every time my symptoms get worse, I get more upset. So, I’m staying away from music.” “Not all music will make you upset…”, she said. I think I growled in reply.

Four hours later, I’m alone in the house. I go out to the front porch and watch the warm, beautiful October day. I realise I haven’t actually listened to any music since September 13th when I was at the dog park feeling so good, before the Crash Of The Year. So, I put my headphones on and plugged into my “Guilty Pleasures” playlist. It’s the poppy or hip-hoppy, beat-heavy, fun stuff that makes me feel empowered — like I can do backflips, like I’m one of the stars of Grease/Fame/Glee, like I’m young and strong and athletic. And then… I was smiling. I was swaying. I was elevated. And, even though I knew I couldn’t, I was itching to run, to dance, to sing at the top of my lungs, to compete in the Olympics… And I had the thought: Fuck you, disease. I got this. You think a little pain and exhaustion is gonna do me in? You think daily flu will break me? I’m made of sterner stuff than that. You don’t get to ruin my life. I’ve got nieces and nephews to watch grow up. I’ve got dogs that need to be played with.

It feels like weeks since I felt a little bit of that strength, confidence, happiness. Mother always knows best.

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Welcome Back… Your dreams were your ticket out.

Welcome back night sweats, crushing headache, terrible spinal pain, and debilitating exhaustion. I didn’t miss you at all, but you decided to return anyway. Oh, and you brought pulled muscle and despair with you. Excellent! I was wondering if they had perhaps gone for a while, but I guess not ~ just a quick one-and-a-half-day jaunt away. Well good, I almost remembered how to laugh. I almost remembered what it’s like to have a normal conversation without grimacing, deep breathing or being distracted by pain. I almost enjoyed the taste of food. I almost got to have a meal with my family without it being a gargantuan effort to drag myself upright, raise my eyes to meet theirs and hear what they were talking about. Almost. But not quite.

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My Overnight Sleep Study in the Hospital.

Check-in for the overnight sleep study was at 7:30pm. It was downtown in what looks like an office building across from the hospital. My husband drove me there and, when we arrived, the lobby was filled with overweight men. One of them was coughing, so you better believe I put my surgical mask on in the elevator. My husband doesn’t even blink an eye at this behavior. But, you know what? The last time I was getting my blood drawn and I explained to the phlebotomist that I didn’t have a cold, I just didn’t like being in the main public hospital because if I got sicker it wouldn’t bode well, she said, “That’s good! Protect yourself! You should!” And there are people out there who will think I have a cold and be grateful. I, for one, would be very grateful if someone were wearing a mask on a plane. The sickest person I’ve ever come in contact with in my life was sitting next to me on a plane. At the time I wasn’t paranoid, so I didn’t say anything, which I can’t believe. Somebody must have, though, because the air hostess (what are they called now?) tried talking to him — to help him or get him off the plane or something. I have no recollection what happened in the end, actually. Did I sit next to him the whole journey? Shudder.

Anyway, the check-in at the sleep clinic involved filling out the 4 EXACT SAME PAGES of forms as I had at the sleep clinic consultation. I will never understand why they do this to patients. Finally, about a month ago, I got savvy and created a google doc with all my allergies, over-the-counter meds, prescription meds, the reasons I take them, the dosages, when I started, when I stopped etc… So, I just print it out and take it to every appointment. To fill all that in on their forms might literally take hours. Plus, it would be very tiny writing. The room was like a hotel room: flat screen tv, shower, toilet, sink, bed… and 65 degrees. That’s like a walk-in. Okay, a broken walk-in, but that’s very cold for me. The tech told me to get into my pajamas and she would be back to take me to the electrode-placing room. This room was even colder. I sat in my little shorts and top shivering as she spent a full hour placing electrodes all over my scalp, chest and legs. She also put tight belts around me chest and waist. The whole time she was explaining things in her thick Russian accent. I was in Moscow in the 80s, I said. I traded my jeans for cigarettes and badges. Her eyes grew wide, Oh, when it was still the Soviet Union? But, these were beautiful badges and cigarette packs. In fact, I think I have the latter somewhere in a box with my Kiss (the band) bubblegum cards. If I can find them, I’ll post a picture. 24-year old cigarettes!When she was done, I looked like this:

I put another blanket on the bed, cranked up the heat in the room and lay down to read. I brought a suitcase; I came prepared. I brought Gatorade and snacks and pain-killers. I brought a bowl and oatmeal, a mug and teabags. But, really, there is no time for anything. By the time she’s done with you, it’s 9:30pm and she is going to be waking me up before 6am. That’s lovely ~ let’s take a bunch of sleep-deprived people and wake them at the crack of a sparrow’s fart (as my husband says). Even if I had asked the tech to heat me up some water for tea so I could warm up (the hospital paperwork said there was a microwave in the room, so I thought I’d be able to do it myself), I wouldn’t have been able to drink it comfortably because I had wires attached to my chin and things up my nose and even raising your arm is an ordeal. Once you are hooked up, nothing comes on or off and you can’t go to the toilet without waving your hand and calling out (because the tech is watching you all night on infrared cameras).She took my blood pressure which was 109/64 (quite high for me — thank you, chicken broth dinner) and ran me through a series of sensor tests (“point and flex your left foot, make a snoring sound, breathe through your nose only” etc.). They have sleep number beds which I thought was great ~ I always wondered what they were like. Holy shit do they suck. Do not fall for the infomercials! I lay there for an hour and a half trying to get comfortable and fall asleep. I listened to my sleep meditation 4 times in a row. I pressed the “softer” button on the mattress remote control about ten times. For those of you with fibromyalgia or any chronic pain, this is a woeful experience. Every wire, every electrode, every inch of the belts hurt my muscles. Plus, I’m on the thin side, so my bones felt like I was lying on concrete. I was like princess and the pea only the peas were jagged rocks. They want you to stay on your back, if possible, but, after the tenth time waking up in pain along my spine, I rolled to my side, not caring what wires I compromised (don’t worry, if a sensor falls off, the tech is alerted and comes in to replace it). I woke up at some stage and waved my hand and got her to disconnect me so I could go to the loo. I woke up at another stage and pushed the mattress “softer” button about 50 more times. I woke up at another stage and drank some water ~ very dry rooms. The one thing I forgot was my throat spray which would have helped with the tickle. I did have a lozenge in my purse on the other side of the room, but I wasn’t going to call the tech in for that. Hint to anyone doing a sleep study: put anything you think you might want by the bed before the tech hooks you up! I woke up again sweltering, had to push the covers off, take my knee-high wool socks off (Raynaud’s, remember), but no drenching night sweats, thank god. I woke up about 5 times with my neck tweaked to bits. The pillows are HORRIBLE. Why didn’t I tell them I had to bring my own pillow because of my neck injury?? (another hint) And then, at 5:55am, she woke me, ran me through the tests again and took my BP (80/51 ~ oof, I’ve never seen it that low unless I’m in a faint. Is it always that low in the morning?). With the lights on, this is what I found my face had been on, the pillow case slipped off:

Am I in jail? How many drooling, sweaty fat men have slept on that rag of a pillow, I ask you? Ew.

I assume most people shower because the goop they put in your hair is very thick and does not come off without hot water and shampoo, but I just wrapped a scarf around my head and went down to meet my husband. Half an hour later, I was in my own bed, with the electric blanket on, vertebrae cushioned, neck supported, more thankful than I have ever been in my life for a good mattress (Bragada is the brand, worth every penny) and a foam neck pillow (free with the Bragada!).

I don’t get the sleep results for 2 weeks. I guarantee the doctor tells me to take a sleeping pill.

Today, I am having a hard time breathing. My heart and lungs seem to be spasming, so I am going to spend the whole weekend trying to rest and praying praying praying that I don’t fall into a deep, dark crash tonight or tomorrow. Please let me get through that clinic visit without becoming bed-bound, weeping with pain and exhaustion. I’m just now slightly starting to feel less depressed, I need this triumph. I need to do one thing without my body punishing me.

Family and friends: I could have made this post half the length and then answered some of your emails, so I apologise… I’ll try to reply to you all tomorrow and not post on the blog.

Gratitude today is for our bed ~ the first big purchase for our new home in 2006. I had slept on a futon and my brother’s couches (in my 20s, I crashed with him in 3 different apartments) for 6 years before buying my first grown-up (cheap) mattress for my first grown-up apartment when I finally decided to stop being a nomad. Never underestimate the power of a decent mattress. I’m going back to mine right now. And I still have the goop in my hair.