When Pain Strikes

Pain rips through my back. I cry out and can’t move. Breath itself becomes torture. That doggone rib has “gone out,” again.

Krista and I worked late last week on two new small movement exercises to get me started. I told her how the first one, an exercise to relax shoulder tension, made that rib move, but that I was game to give it a try. I did express my fear that the movement would trigger “Pain.”  

Oh, dang, I just hit the self-fulfilling fear.

Capital letter Pain. The Pain that slams into me like a WWE wrestler. The Pain that prevents me from doing all I want to do. All I should to do.

Yes, I do know that pain is protective. It’s a warning to take your hand out of the fire. But both acute and chronic pain are serious problems of our times.

Lifestyle plays a large part—lack of exercise, excess weight, processed foods—and so do health challenges (like that rogue parathyroid gland), genetic conditions and/or accidents and more.

Pain is demoralizing—it robs us of spirit, flame, sparkle. And, it is undeniably difficult to learn to live with.

In some ways I’m lucky. I have a number of modalities that I can switch around to try to relieve a pain flare. I have prescription medications and patches. I use ice and heat and warm water. Stretching. Breath control.

I’ve tried acupuncture and an epidural, though neither worked for me (in fact, both caused me more pain). So, I work on managing the pain, using my tools.

This Pain struck as I rose from bed—a perfectly normal movement, one everyone does every day. I had a telephone handy, but I tried to shuffle to the garage door to get the “grabber” so I could reach my anesthetic patches. I couldn’t get down the two steps. I shuffled back to the bedroom and called my husband. Luckily he’s self-employed, was in town and nearby.

He dropped what he was doing, came home, and found me perched on the edge of the bed, crying, afraid to move, practicing breath management. He gently put two patches on my back, and got me the icepack.

A half hour later, Pain frozen into submission, I was back in business. The rib, though, reminds me that Pain lurks.

The only way to end this Pain is to work through it. I know it sounds perverse but I also know that unless I can strengthen the muscles that hold this rib in place the pain is not going to go away. It’s already plagued me for too many years.

Baby steps.

For all the people I know living with both chronic and acute pain—I am so sorry. I send gentle hugs. I urge you to be proactive—work with your doctors, work with physical therapists, work with a pain specialists (if you can find one), understand your own body and insist on a range of tools to break a flare. Trust yourself and your body’s own self-knowledge. Be gentle with yourself, but do persevere.

To their (and my) friends—thank you for understanding why we cannot do all that we want, that you want. That “learning to live with pain” means something different to us than it does to you. Thank you for being kind.

To doctors—listen to your patients. I mean REALLY listen to your patients. The treatment of pain is a serious concern in the United States, California, Sonoma County, Healdsburg.

You cannot just throw another pill at a patient or recommend only physical therapy (sometimes it is not affordable). Don’t wash your hands of your patients; do your best to understand and to work with them.

We must better understand how to prevent pain in the first place—and we are making inroads in that area, though we’ve a long way to go. I believe there are powerful mental-physical tools to block/prevent pain, if we can learn how to use them.

We can and must do better to alleviate pain. We can, and must, empower patients with pain management tools.  I’m not talking about only pharmaceuticals. While they have a place, other tools are just as, or even more, important.

Every patient deserves a whole shed full of tools when pain strikes.

(**Author’s note: After years of ill health, and coexisting with several chronic conditions, I make the conscious decision to ferociously live wellness to my fullest extent. This is my journey. I know I cannot change at least one of my physical conditions but I choose live more consciously and in better health than I have for the past 18 years, since a degenerative spinal condition rendered me “disabled.”

I have a team to help me to this end. Krista Williams, a dear friend, and a senior in the kinesiology program at Sonoma State University, who has chosen me as her semester project case study and who will help guide me through an individualized physical rehabilitation program. Vilma, my literary friend, led me to a homeopath M.D. who is helping me take a whole-body approach to health and wellness. I have two additional physicians, who while more conventional than alternative in approach, have shown compassionate interest in my complexities and who believe that I can regain my health.

This blog promises to be an honest portrayal of my journey to wellness—the parts that are difficult as well as the parts that are easy. I hope that my experiences may serve to support and inspire others with chronic conditions as they journey toward optimum health.

Disclaimer: Any healing modalities I may try are individualized for me and created in conjunction with the advice of my physicians. Nothing I write should be construed as medical advice. Please seek proper medical attention for any condition(s) you may have.)