Archives for posts with tag: pain management

I’m sipping my coffee and ignoring (as much as I can) the chronic pain of my osteo-arthritis, which radiates upward from my spinal fusion, which was done years ago, when the state of the art was quite different than it is today. I knew then that my surgery was a new approach to the problem, and that some outcomes were unknown. The goal was to prevent me from ending up in a wheelchair partially paralyzed, and to allow me to continue to serve on active duty (Army). I guess for most values of success, my surgeries were a great success. I’m still walking. I did continue to serve (was even deployed to war in the 90s’), after a period of convalescent “retirement”, although I got “RIF’d” after that war (which broke my heart, but is an altogether unrelated story). So, generally, I’ve nothing to regret about that surgery if I’m just thinking about those details. But…

…There were consequences – of both the injury itself, and the surgeries that followed. The arthritis started to develop in my spine about 3 years after my surgeries. I didn’t understand why I was in so much pain all the time, and it took a rather stupid amount of time for that to be appropriately diagnosed; I was young. Medical bias being a real thing, many doctors were persistently just as “mystified” as I was. What could be causing my pain? How could I have arthritis at my young age? I still feel frustration and annoyance by that lack of curiosity, and lack of diagnostic skill (or persistance). Pain they could not feel themselves did not matter to them.

Then, there were the other things… the persistent chronic itch below my left shoulder blade, that I couldn’t quite reach and that scratching didn’t ease. A “phantom itch” that still bothers me occasionally (CBT really helped with that). A chronically cramped muscle down low on my back, on the left side of my body, most likely a result of the disturbed section of musculature attaching to my spine being put back “not quite in the right place” during my surgery (to make room for the hardware that was there for a year) and which healed into a new, less than ideal, location. This, too, still bothers me, often. Most of it I had to “figure out” in pieces, with limited help from too many doctors, and a lot of study. Sexual challenges (both neurological, and also to do with practical matters like lubrication) that were awkward to discuss were another thing; I was past 60 before a physician finally said, with some surprise, “of course that’s related to your spinal injury” after looking at my records, surgical reports, and images, and listening to me with great care. She seemed so matter-of-fact about it, I ended up enraged for days that no one else had said as much. I went through some shit over that issue with more than one lover, I can tell you. Turned out it wasn’t “my fault” or “a lack of desire”, or anything I could actually do much about; I have a spinal injury. Duh. I spent a few days moping around pretty pissed off about it.

What I thought I understood.

Why am I on about this, today? It’s to do with perspective and knowledge, and how those create our understanding (or don’t). I knew coming out of my surgery all those years ago that I had a permanent “30% stenosis”, and I felt that I understood what that meant. I mean, words having meaning, and I knew the meanings of the words…so… I understand? Don’t I? I thought I “got it”. My lack of real understanding was stunning, and it would be decades before that changed. It wasn’t actually a doctor that changed my understanding. It was math – and a moment at the dining room table with my Traveling Partner; a “lightbulb moment” to do with circles, that was completely unrelated to my spine, my injury, or my pain. lol (Pay attention in school, kids – math matters, and it’s useful stuff.) Something clicked.

What I hadn’t understood, in spite of seeing the images, reading the reports, and discussing with doctors, was what my stenosis meant in my case, specifically. For many years, I imagined 30% percent stenosis as a uniform 30% reduction in a circular area. (I felt pretty stupid when my understanding changed.) Firstly, the spinal canal as a “tubular structure” is not a beautifully perfect mathematical cylinder wherein a slice would appear circular. Not at all. It’s quite different than that. Also, and more importantly, my injury (which crushed two vertebrae, and broke off a spinous process which was then forced into my spinal canal by the impact and subsequently could not be removed) and the repair of that injury did not result in anything like a uniform reduction in area all the way around. Not even close.

Geometry for the win. lol

Reality doesn’t care what we believe. Our pain doesn’t care what we think we understand about our body. Reality is. Pain is. Conditions are what they are regardless of our understanding. So, for years I had struggled with symptoms that made no sense to me – because I so poorly understood my condition – and which I could then not clearly articulate to doctors, who may also not have understood my condition, because (let’s just be real about this, eh) doctors are also human and also have limitations to their own knowledge (and limitations on the amount of time they can spend reading patient histories with the care needed). I understand more/better now, but… I’m still limited by all the things I do not know. I still live within a reality that I perhaps only partially understand because of those limits.

…And reality doesn’t care at all what I understand…

Our perspective and our knowledge limit our understanding – but reality goes on being real, regardless of what we think we know or how we think we understand the world around us.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Living with the pain is pretty much a requirement. There is no option to live without it, at least not now, not really. I do my best. Maybe that reality will change at some point in the future? Technology changes. Medical progress is made. I’ve learned to practice fairly skillful pain management in the meantime. I’m not complaining, not really. Good self-care and skillful pain management may not add up to a “cure for pain” – but it does help.

I sip my coffee thinking about my Traveling Partner, his injury, his surgery, his progress… he’s come so far, so fast, relatively speaking (although I know it doesn’t feel that way to him). We both deal with pain, and I don’t personally see a future where that’s not a thing we deal with, each having our own experience, each doing our best. I feel fortunate to have a better understanding of my injury than I once did. I’m grateful for a conversation at the dining room table about math and circles and ratios and areas, and grateful for a partnership that understands pain and makes room for love anyway. Grateful for love. Things could be worse.

I look out the window. My mind wanders away from the pain I’m in – probably a change for the better. It doesn’t do to dwell on the pain. Don’t get me started about this fucking headache. I sigh quietly and glance at my calendar, and the clock. It’s time to begin again.

It’s a Friday, and seems pretty routine and ordinary so far. It’s raining. Spring in the Pacific Northwest, this is not unexpected. The weather is otherwise quite mild (where I am), and I am content and mostly comfortable, if a bit groggy. My body feels as if I overslept (I didn’t) and my mind feels as if I am behind on things (I’m not). Funny how subjective our experience of life can be. This morning I am frustrated and annoyed with the amount of pain I am in, and my lingering feeling of fatigue, in spite of getting a restful night of sleep. I sip my coffee, listen to the rain falling, and try to let small things stay small, and avoid Other People’s Drama or wallowing in chaos I can not control (or fix).

I breathe, exhale, relax, and think about… lavender. I’ve now planted six varieties in my wee garden, placed close enough to various roses to (hopefully) discourage the deer from eating the roses. That was the purpose of the lavender, but I actually also like the smell of lavender, and in springtime often enjoy tea with lavender in it, or some other beverage (even coffee) with a hint of lavender. I enjoy lavender scented bath soap and fragrances. I avoid “over doing it” – strong scents can be annoying in small spaces. I have the recollection that at some point there was the thinking that lavender was an old-fashioned scent, or somehow conveyed “age”… I don’t perceive it that way, myself (I don’t think I ever have, but I’m not certain of that and thinking changes over time). On the other hand, I’m 62 this year, perhaps I like lavender because I’ve “grown into it”? (Nah, I was using lavender scented shower gel back in the 80s, as a young soldier, and enjoying the way it brought Spring to mind, for me.) I sip my coffee, enjoying the thought of the newly planted lavender settling into the garden on a mild rainy day, roots reaching further into the earth, tender new shoots of greenery developing slowly. I smile to myself, happy to have a garden, and a home of my own. Happy to share it with my Traveling Partner who is so enduringly dear to me. He comes out and sits at the edge of the garden when I work, sometimes, making suggestions and observing the work, calling out jokes or loving compliments, sharing that time and place with me fondly, in spite of commenting that he “doesn’t care at all” about the flowers. lol He cares about me. That’s enough.

Lavender in my garden.

The chaos of the world (and the turd in a clown car parked in a raging dumpster fire that is currently American governance) nibbles at my consciousness, trying to encroach on my sense of peace and contentment, but a quick glance at this morning’s headlines assured me they are all yesterday’s headlines regurgitated over new bylines for additional clicks and engagement. No thank you. I’ve got my own pain, and my own shit to deal with, and I’m already well-aware of the shit-storm of additional chaos and disappointment likely coming for us all. I’ll do my best to take care of myself, of my family, of hearth and home, and to be kind to others, and foster a sense of compassion and community. It’s important to do my best to be the woman I most want to be, and to avoid becoming “one of the bad guys” and also to maintain a strong sense of self, and ensure that my ethics remain intact. Doing that isn’t a small thing, and it has real, lasting value. It may not change the world, but it keeps my corner of it tidy and free of unnecessary bullshit, which is worth something.

Speaking of pain… I’ve got mine. It is what it is. I’m doing my best to keep it managed and to avoid letting it become a decision-making force in my life. I’d rather ache a little from the bending and reaching of planting lavender in my garden than go without a garden. I’d rather be sore from miles walked on new trails that sit at home crying over the pain I’d be in, regardless. I’m not saying that to shame anyone or criticize someone else’s choices; it’s just my own path, and I’m doing my best to walk it in spite of pain. Fuck pain. It already occupies too much of my time and attention, I don’t really want to give it more – but there it is, a near constant companion these days. Some days worse than others. Today it’s there, but it’s not “everything”. I push it aside, again and again, and get on with other things. How about you? How’s your pain? Are you managing to manage it, mostly? Are you practicing good self-care, taking meds on time, getting enough exercise, and good nutrition? Would a hot shower help? Would some yoga help? Would it help to stand up and stretch and move around a bit? Would it help to distract yourself with something positive and uplifting, like a cup of tea with a friend, or reading an interesting book? I hope you take care of yourself – you have a life worth living, and a human experience to enjoy that is unlike any other.

I sigh quietly, and notice that daybreak has arrived, blue-gray and rainy. I’m not surprised. Daybreak was expected – I’m not sure how I’d react if one morning the sun did not rise at all. It’s a strange thought. I knew it would be a rainy morning, because it already was. I sip my coffee thinking about how much of my expectations of life, generally, are simply carried over from previous days and experiences. Habits. Routines. Rituals. Familiar paths and roads. Practices. I sit with that thought a little while and wonder quietly how I can free myself from sticky expectations and untested assumptions to more easily embrace the novel and unfamiliar, or at least be more open to it when it comes?

Seedlings on a sunnier day. What have you planted in your garden? (It’s a metaphor.)

I see my smile reflected back at me in the window. I’m okay right now, for most values of okay. Even my pain, which is substantial this morning, isn’t really holding me back at all. It’s Friday. I’m eager to finish the work day and return to the garden, just to see the lavender I’ve planted there, and to count the radish and pea seedlings that have sprouted, and pull some weeds. Small joys add up. I sip my coffee and get ready to begin again.

I sip my coffee quietly, head aching. Back aching. Sort of “waiting on the next moment”, in the morning stillness. No walk, no commute, this morning, there are ice storms in the weather forecast and my Traveling Partner asked me to work from home, rather than worry about my safety on the road. So far this morning, the temperature is unexceptional, there is no rain falling (freezing or otherwise), and it’s a dry and clear winter morning. I did sleep in, though, which was quite nice.

My beloved wakes, and asks me if I would make his coffee and some breakfast? I step away from my desk, unsurprised, and do so, feeling contented and loved. He seems to be in a decent mood, but I can tell he’s also in pain. I remind myself to be patient and kind as the day wears on. As I make his coffee, I am reminded that the dishes need doing (hard to avoid that reminder; they’re in the sink, and I dislike that so intensely it’s hard to put words to it), and also that I have a prescription to pick up at the pharmacy if the weather holds out. Later. Later. I make myself some oatmeal, and get back to my desk and let my just-woke-up partner finishing waking up while he enjoys his breakfast.

It’s an ordinary enough morning, for one built on exceptions to the routine. In spite of the pain I’m in, I’m in a good mood, and feel pretty well-rested. Funny how much difference good sleep can make, isn’t it? I breathe, exhale, and relax. I take my morning medication. I eat my oatmeal. Walnuts and dried fruit with a bit of ginger, this morning, and it’s pretty good. My coffee is excellent. Good beans. Careful pour over that I made myself. It is, of course, precisely the way I like it. lol Sometimes little satisfying rituals, like making a cup of coffee “just so”, can be so intensely soul-nourishing. Definitely a fond practice, for me, although too often I rush through things or grab whatever coffee is near at hand and call it good enough – it’s not at all the same experience as taking the time and care to do it skillfully, with intention. There’s something to be learned in such things. Will I ever learn it? I hope I at least keep practicing. lol

I sip my coffee, grateful to have it. I am grateful for this warm cozy home, and the sound of my Traveling Partner getting his morning started in the other room. I’m grateful for this work space, which my partner set up with me in mind, measuring things and getting the ergonomics just right for me so I would be most comfortable, even on long work days. I’m grateful for the convenience and warmth of “quick cooking” oatmeal, and a pantry stocked with nuts and dried fruits and things with which to prepare meals. I am fortunate. It’s worth a moment of gratitude, however ordinary these things may seem. Running water. Indoor plumbing. A gas fireplace. Carpets and rugs over well-maintained floors. Electric lighting. You too? Probably – for most of these things – they aren’t all that out of the ordinary for a family in a small suburban home in the United States. It’s not a lavish life of luxury, generally speaking, although I have some things other people may not have for themselves, there are also a great many things some people have that I go without. There’s a variety of human experiences. I’ve lived worse off than I do now. Some people are by far better off than I find myself. It’s not a race or a competition, and I’m content to simply find my joy in sufficiency, and appreciate what I’ve got, without striving aggressively for luxuries “within view” but beyond my means. This is not a time for that. (Is it ever? Greed is an ugly quality.) There’s no knowing what the future holds, so I enjoy this “now” with appreciation and gratitude.

I sip my coffee and think about “the future”. With so much chaos, destruction, and despair in the world (and in this country) right now, it’s something I worry over a bit. What does the future hold? How do we create a world in which everyone can thrive? The wealth of the world would provide for us all, if it were not held in the hands of a small few who do not make use of it, just pile it up and point to their pile and remind us all how very privileged they are, while others struggle and suffer (and often at the hands of those very wealthy hoarders of privilege). It’s not a good look. I keep expecting humanity to do better. (Don’t you?)

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s time to start the day. Time to do my own best, moment to moment. It’s time to begin again.

It’s a new day, a new opportunity, and a chance to begin again. There are choices, some with obvious options, some less so. There are unrepeatable unique moments to experience ahead. Change is, and that’s unavoidable, but it is also among the many choices. The menu of The Strange Diner is vast – far larger than anyone can experience in a single lifetime. What will I choose, today?

The dawn of a new day.

I watch the sky begin to lighten through a tear in the storm clouds overhead, waiting for enough light to walk the trail without a headlamp. Pleasant morning for it. Rain fell during the night, but it isn’t raining now. The morning is chilly but not freezing or icy. The air is calm, and the morning is a quiet one. I have the nature park to myself.

I sit with my thoughts awhile, refusing to linger over the larger concerns of the complete shit show that is currently our federal government, or the bullshit and corruption that follows putting petty billionaires in charge of it. It’s a mess and I can’t do much about it besides complain, and endure the next few years wondering how we’ll clean this mess up afterwards. Instead I focus my attention on the sky above me, the imminent dawn, and thoughts of friends, life, and love. Looks like I’ll have a four day weekend for Valentine’s Day. I sit wondering what to do with that to celebrate a partnership that is such a profound and positive experience in my life? It’s definitely worth celebrating…

The storm clouds overhead begin to take on a shredded appearance. Hints of pale blue and soft lemon yellow peer through the open spaces between the storm clouds as they begin to drift apart.

The stands of trees along the trail are silhouetted against the sky now, and I can see the trail. I sigh and rub the painful places of my neck, shoulder, and back, wherever I can reach, and lace up my boots. The walk may help some with the pain, though it often seems as likely to make it worse. Doesn’t matter. I enjoy the time walking with my thoughts. It’s a useful prelude to a new day. It’s already time to begin again.

My tinnitus is super loud this morning. Distracting. Annoying. I breathe, exhale, and relax, as I absentmindedly rub my left trapezius muscle, up near my neck… Or is it my sternocleidomastoid? That general area. Feels like it is carved of stone and most of the time also a prominent source of day-to-day pain. I see one of my care providers today. He’s very skilled and I am hopeful that I’ll have a few hours or a couple days of real relief before my fucked up neck recreates the painful circumstances all over again. I’ve grown resigned to accepting that it is simply the byproduct of an old neck injury, combined with progressing degenerative disk disease (C3-C4 mostly and cervical arthritis from C5 on up to C1). It sucks and it’s painful, but, and this is important and real, it could be worse.

I walked down the trail listening to the crunch of boots on pea gravel, and I focused on the external sounds around me; it helps push the tinnitus into the background some. I got to a pleasant spot along the river to sit for a moment. The world is quiet and from here I can’t hear the traffic on the nearby highway at all. Whether this is an atmospheric phenomenon, a lack of traffic, or hearing loss is not clear to me, and maybe not even relevant to this pleasant moment. There’s a strip of color, not quite orange, on the eastern horizon, peeking between hillsides, silhouetting the trees on the far bank where the river bends. I have the trail and the park to myself this morning, alone with my thoughts (and my tinnitus, and my pain). Well… mostly…

I sit quietly as a rather large raccoon waddles past. She gives me a look and hesitates a moment before proceeding. I sit still and watch her discreetly from my peripheral vision hoping not to discourage her and choking back a laugh remembering the desk sign my Traveling Partner made for me (“most likely to be eaten by something she shouldn’t be petting”). As the raccoon continues past she’s followed by 2…3…4…5 chubby fuzzy youngsters, one of whom appears eager to get a closer look at me. Mom looks back and lifts herself on her back legs and makes sounds that clearly manage to communicate “Damn it, leave that human alone, you have no idea where that thing has been! Come on, we don’t have time for this.” It’s super hard not to giggle but I really don’t want to alarm Mama Raccoon – she’s pretty big, and I’m definitely not up for defending myself from an angry or frightened raccoon; they are not to be trifled with.

She walks on with her youngsters following, heading down the river bank. I walk on, too, heading back up the trail toward the parking lot. It’s daybreak. Good time to begin again.