What no one tells you about chronic pain
According to the CDC, about 50 million people live with chronic pain. 50 million people wake up every day in pain. Some trudge through their work days while others are on disability. It can be invisible obstacle that someone is struggling with and somehow, on the outside they look fine. Others, their pain shows in more obvious ways. For me, it started as a small bout of sciatica. Nothing new. It happens every few years. Then it progressed to nerve pain down my leg and now I walk with a limp and my entire upper body tilted to one side to try and relieve some of the pain. It’s been 9 months since it started and the process has been frustrating to say the least.
The people that should listen, don’t.
When I went to the doctor the first time, I knew he wasn’t listening to me. Well, he may have been hearing what I was saying but he didn’t believe me. I let him know I had dealt with sciatica before and was actively doing yoga and stretching to try and relieve some of the pain. He then proceeded to tell me to stretch and walk daily. Word of note (that shouldn’t matter but does) I am in fact overweight. This poor doctor was genuinely shocked when he did a mobility test and I was able to touch the floor with flat hands. I was given some generic steroids and sent on my way.
Two months later, I am back and it is progressively getting worse. My leg is going numb and is tingly. There is a sharp pain running down the back of my leg. I am miserable most days. At this point I can still do some of the things I enjoy just in smaller amounts. Same doctor. Same conversation. Same band-aid of steroids.
Another two months goes by and I am back. Same doctor. Same conversation. I am not in a lot of pain everyday. I am having issues stretching and walking. My flexibility is quickly declining. Another round of steroids and a referral for physical therapy. I do the physical therapy and each session makes it worse. My physical therapist is amazing and listens to me.
I’m crying putting on pants. I’m crying trying to drive my car. I’ve started showering every other day because I can’t physically bring myself to stand long enough to shower after working all day. Same doctor. Same conversation. Only this time my husband has tagged along. My doctor talks to him. Listens to him. I receive another round of steroids and a referral for an MRI and Orthopedic surgeon.
What no one tells you
The pain isn’t the worst part.
Standing in a closet at 5 am trying to deep breathe your way through bending over JUST enough to slip your foot into a pair of pants with tears streaming down your face is worse than the pain. The feeling like you can’t do anything for yourself, that is suffocating. Trying to crawl into your bed that sits just a little too high now. Face in the sheets so no one can hear you crying, one foot on the floor the other leg on the bed trying to force yourself to just pick up the other foot. Sitting on the shower floor sobbing because you can’t stand long enough to shower after putting on a facade all day at work takes a mental on you.
Being the person with a million hobbies and not being able to do any of them because you’re in pain is depressing. Watching my garden die over these last few months has been the perfect metaphor for how I am feeling. I started this blog last year to expand my food and business photography. As the year went on I posted less and less because I physically couldn’t bake and take photos of what I made. I am now at the point that I can’t even cook myself dinner. I can, but it ends in me sobbing on the kitchen floor and then being in so much pain I can’t eat.
The light at the end of the tunnel isn’t even a glimmer
I have officially seen an orthopedic surgeon. He reviewed my MRI and said I needed to go to a pain management specialist for injections. He gave me some pain medication to get me by. The pain specialist can’t see me for a consultation until the end of the month. I have three more weeks until I can finally even talk to someone about actual pain management and that is just the consultation, no treatment will be given that day. Then I have to see when he can fit me in his schedule for my first injections and HOPE it works within 2 weeks of receiving it. The pain medication my orthopedic doctor gave me doesn’t even take the edge off which means that I have three more weeks of crying completing absolutely basic necessity tasks.
The things no one tells you about chronic pain is that it feels absolutely fucking hopeless even when you are trying your hardest to fix it and it feels like no one else cares or believes you.
