Pain management has always been something in the back of my mind, something I’ve known I’ll need to look into eventually but I really didn’t think eventually would come so soon.
The neurologist I saw when I was first diagnosed with MS in 2006 said there’s no pain with MS. I realize now that I have a huge resentment at that man. I believed him. I wish I could have videotaped myself this morning to show him. No pain with MS? Here, watch this. Watch the sobbing and the bending over in pain, watch as I just try to get my dog fed and relieved, watch as I sobbed just wanting to get to the couch, watch as I lay there unable to move but needing to since no position was comfortable and tell me there’s no pain with MS.
It feels like an exposed nerve on a tooth. Everywhere. It feels like daggers are being shoved into my knees and then bolts of pain radiate down my shins and up my thighs. It feels like a school of little pain children was just released on the last day of the semester and they’re running along my bones and muscles and nerves.
Four Advil eventual took the very edge of the pain off and canceling my doctor’s appointment eased the sobbing, knowing I wouldn’t need to leave the house. I’m grateful they were understanding and rescheduled me for next week. Always find a silver lining, always. Or go insane with it all.
I do what I can to ease the pain. I exercise and get regular massages. I stretch. I do yoga. I soak in the bath. But those things don’t help the flairs of acute pain like what attacked me this morning upon awakening.
I knew rain was in the forecast. I felt it Friday while I was on the phone with Carol. “I suddenly feel rain pain,” I said.
“Is rain coming?” Carol asked.
“I don’t know, let’s check.” I hopped on my weather page. Yep, fifty percent chance of rain Monday night. It’s Monday morning and already raining. Add that to the early arrival of Aunt Flo for her monthly visit yesterday and you have a recipe for disaster.
I wanted pot this morning. Just the thought of it brought tears of longing for the relief I knew it would bring. I never enjoyed pot recreationally even in my drinking days but I did smoke it if it was available when I had a migraine or cramps and it worked like nothing else ever did. When I have moments of acute pain, it’s all I think about.
Today I finally accepted that it’s time to discuss pain management with my doc next week and that terrifies me. Just thinking about it makes the tears well up again. I’m afraid of pills. I’m afraid of getting hooked on pills. I’m afraid my strength in sobriety will ebb one day when emotions have my bases loaded and I’ll talk myself into pain I don’t have so I can take a pill. I’m terrified of what drugs do to organs. I love the fact that I don’t abuse my liver with booze anymore. I don’t want to make it process anything else. But four Advil isn’t good either. I see that now.
This is another turning point in life with MS. I’ve talked with Carol before about how the blindness made the MS real for the government and for many people in my life. I didn’t look sick before I couldn’t see. It took the loss of my eyes to show how severe my disease is. I don’t mind the blindness. Too much awesome stuff has happened as a result of going blind, like Jayden and the Rays. I hate the MS though. I hate that my blindness is seen as my primary disability. I hate the people see me as so capable. Why don’t you work? Why don’t you go back to school? Those questions had all stopped when I went blind but they creep up again from time to time. You’re so adjusted. Yeah, until rain happens while Aunt Flo is in town or even when she isn’t. Today was just a powder keg exploding finally letting me know I need to have a backup plan for severe pain days such as this.
I’m just scared. I had to write it out that I’m scared. There are others like me out there. You’ve been scared too. Maybe you’ll google something about being scared of pain management and read this and know you’re not alone.
Here’s another silver lining. The couch came in the most perfect of times. I don’t see me getting up off this couch for any length of time today. It’s perfect and comfy cozy for bad pain days. Thank you, Carol!