I apologize for my somewhat running train of thought below, and this wasn’t what I’d intended to write tonight. But sometimes, life just intrudes, you know.
There are times when the chronic pain makes life seem overwhelming. Times when you know you can’t handle one more thing, and then you’re hit upside the head by something entirely new and scary
I tend to categorize my pain into two formats – low-to-mid –level pain that never quits is one. This is the kind of pain I notice most when I’m at my job or in front of the computer. No type of chair has ever helped, no matter how much it’s lumbar-adjustable. This pain runs from my lower lumbar down, and at its worst feels like the pointed end of my spine is trying to dig its way through my tailend. I only half expect to see it pushing out of my butt when I stand up.
The second category is for the knife-like, burning pain I get when I stand or walk for more than 15 minutes. It’s the kind of pain that makes it impossible for me to carry my Maine Coon cat from the backdoor to his outside kennel. It’s the kind of pain that has taken the joy out of feeding my menagerie because it takes too long … and I have two cats who won’t eat with the rest. They –must- be fed in their special places in the bedroom – which entails more walking. Yes, all my “babies” are spoiled rotten, and I’ve loved every minute making them that way. And they’ve given (and still give) love unconditionally. But now I can’t get on the floor to play with them; I can’t rough and tumble with my big old dog, and I can’t race around the house, entourage in tow, chasing the “red dot” any longer.
Worse for me is I can’t even clean my own house and keep it that way any more. Studies were done that showed a clean or “dirty” house had a major impact on some women’s health, and I’m living testimony to the truth of it. Hiring someone is out of the question; not enough money. Hubby tries, but I don’t think it’s in his DNA. But a clean house means order and control in some women’s lives; a messy house eats on you just as bad as the chronic pain, and even making up your mind to remedy the situation leaves you more frustrated and angry at yourself for what you can’t do anymore… for days.
And then that one more, entirely new, and very scary thing happens. You want to scream, you want to cry, you want to hide, you just want someone else to deal with it. But there isn’t anyone else; and this is your lifemate here, and you’ve got to pull it together and ignore your own pain and try to be wise and strong for him. I think I failed miserably in that this morning, and I feel horrible because of it.
Towards rationalization, I was awakened out of sound (for me) sleep, groggy from it and the effect of the dumb muscle relaxants. But my husband being sick in the bathroom is something I just never hear out of him. I swear the man could eat rotten meat and not get sick. Of course, being 64, his system may now be changing, too. But I’m worried about him, nonetheless.
The same year I had my back and hip surgeries, he discovered the attacks of heartburn he’d been having actually were heart attacks. The unclogged and added a stent, but also later discovered a vein in his leg was also clogging. So, they placed a stent in it, too. After giving him scripts for a mass of meds, he never went back to them again. I even called his sister to try to convince him to follow-up, but no go.
Needless to say, he’s been on a blood thinner for the last 2 years, and believe me, it works. He recently fell down the basement stairs and put about a two-inch gash on the upper side of his face . Thirteen hours it took it to stop bleeding, and no way was I getting him into an ER. Instead, I just kept changing bandages and doing whatever else I could think of.
Then last weekend he said he had a black circle in one eye that was interfering with his vision. Told him to make an appointment ASAP with his old PC physician. That doc sent him right away to an eye specialist in the richest part of the city. Hint: we don’t look rich, because we’re not! That doctor, a large, well-built, very snobbish doctor told him he had a tear in his maculum (probably from the fall), and the spot was due to blood pooling. Of course, I took that opportunity to remind him I’d said “Let’s go to the ER!” When hubby wouldn’t let him poke his eyeball, said doc told him to wait 10-12 days and if it wasn’t better, they’d have to surgically fix it. Oh… and btw, there’d be no anesthesia or even twilight sleep for this procedure.
We now have a list of docs who do this kind of surgery who DO anesthesize the patient, and are a little more down-to-earth. Hopefully even empathetic, but I don’t like to reach too far. Hubby’s doing follow up on that starting tomorrow.
But last night, he got dizzy, and felt very weak. After sitting for a little bit, it passed but it was worrisome to him (and to me). And then early this morning, he was in the bathroom worshing the porcelein buddha. Was it all connected to his eye? We don’t know. Hubby feared the worst – a blood clot to his brain. When I woke up to the noise, I thought his days of eating anything and everything had finally caught up with him. Later on, I worried about a stroke. However, other than feeling a little weak (he’s been laying in his easy chair all day), he feels okay and there’s nothing noticeably wrong with his posture, limbs, or thought processes. Regardless, he’s going to be going to the doctor again, even if I have to drag him there.
Of course, all this left me today with having to do the grocery store run for work this week, and then the initial carrying of the bags and cat litter up three flights of stairs. As I sat down in my chair at my desk, all I could do was put my head in my hands and cry, I hurt so bad. And once again, curse the lawmakers who make everyone dealing with chronic pain into drug addicts just looking for another fix.