relief

Amidst terrible recent events, there has been a small miracle happening in my life. Since tumbling up, into the air about 17 years ago, off of a horse and landing upside down, legs over head, slumped against the metal wall of an indoor riding arena, pain has been a constant presence in my life. It was bad in my late teens, worse in my early twenties, a bit better in my mid and late twenties, and much, much worse after bed rest followed by taking care of twins.

Bulging, crushed discs, an odd thoracic injury, the nerve pain ebbed and flowed based on how attentive I could be to maintaining an artificial column of muscle to help support my spine. Shortly after the accident, at age 15, the quest for relief began. Ultrasound therapy, exercises, it all helped just a little. Once in Minneapolis, I saw an awful, gruff orthopedic surgeon who told me that I needed surgery, really, but that surgery wasn’t possible on that part of the spine. He had little else to offer, suggesting only that I try to avoid getting hooked on pain pills.

In came the chiropractors, starting a nasty cycle of feeling wonderful on the bus ride home from the appointment only to be in unbearable pain at 1 AM. I know many people that have been helped by chiropractors, but their conviction that my disc injury was a problem that originated in misalignment was a poor fit for my particular problem, it would seem. The first of these made an indirect pass at me in his seedy exam room. I moved on, and the next was a bit of a chiropractic evangelical who seemed to want my relief almost as much as I did. For months, he claimed that my complete relief was just around the corner, even meeting me in his office in the middle of the night when the pain was so bad I was ready to go the ER for pain relief. When I had disentangled myself from his spell, I went to a more reasonable woman in her forties, kind and sympathetic, who offered, after a couple of months, the revelation that maybe this wasn’t an injury that could be further helped by chiropractic care. In came the masseuses who tried, and partially succeeded in breaking up the scar tissue in my shoulders. I tried cranial-sacral adjustments, and talked about my feelings at the time of the accident. I read books on the attitudinal aspects of dealing with chronic pain. I tried herbs. More physical therapy, the best of which did finally help some, but required hours and hours every week at the YWCA. At my best, I could sometimes ride a bike a few miles, and sometimes run to catch a bus. I could mostly sleep through the night without taking pain medication at 4 AM. Then came bed rest with twins, undoing years of hard work and hard-earned musculature needed to support my spine so the nerves were not so compressed. The pain has been awful over the last two years.

In November, I saw another orthopedic surgeon, and had an X-ray and MRI. He concluded that I needed surgery and surgery is indeed now possible in that part of the back, but there are risks, and the recovery would take time. I am in no way ready to not care for my boys for two months; not emotionally, and not financially. The risks also scare me, and the longer I wait, the more will be known about how to fix thoracic disc problems. He mentioned cortisone injections as an option, but because they can be so tricky to administer effectively in a case like mine, my insurance won’t cover them without my trying other options first. He gave me a referral to a non-surgeon ortho doc, and I was so depressed about the prospects of undergoing yet more physical therapy for little relief that it took me months to follow up on it.

I wish I hadn’t waited so long. The new doc prescribed physical therapy, but he also prescribed a medication that is typically used for people who have seizures. Neur*ntin is not a pain medication, but in some people, it blocks nerve pain, and its use for this purpose is becoming more common. It turns out that I’m one of those people. When I take it, I can still feel my neck and shoulder pain, as well as the toe I just stubbed, but while I can feel where the nerve pain is, I can no longer really describe it as pain. After 17 years of pain, it is dramatically reduced, to the point where I can do things that were unimaginable for me a week and a day ago.  This medication has side effects, bad enough that without some real benefit, most people would probably hate being on it. My mouth is dry, I feel a little dopey and groggy, and I’m a little nauseous. All these things are completely, entirely worth it, especially since they are getting better as my body gets used to the drug. I'm also pretty much off of ibuprofen, which was causing a worrisome amount of reflux.

The effect this relief from pain has had on my psyche has been tremendous, and also complex – so much so that it’s hard to write about yet. I can only say that there is a tiny bit of grief mixed with the elation as I swing O high in the air in the pool, N looking up wide-eyed at his mama’s uncharacteristic behavior. I feel both euphoric and weepy as I bend down to pick up toys and books in our living room and know I won’t have to pay the price for the next several hours. I am more patient, I can focus more. I go to sleep smiling, knowing I might well sleep until the alarm rings, waking up in the same position I fell asleep in. As I drift off, I fantasize about the possibilities: me, in a canoe, taking up the oars and moving them through the water. Me, on a bike, with my kids on the way to ride along the creek near our house. Me, playing ball with my boys, running on the ball field. Me, sitting here with my laptop in the backyard sitting perfectly still, not needing to put a hand behind my back or adjust my position, just sitting, and feeling, without pain. Seventeen-plus years is a long time. There are many more years to come.