Category Archives for Mental Health

Can Pain Kill You?

Can pain kill you? According to the responses from my Google search, yes, it can.

Can Pain Kill You

Some days, like today, I feel like my pain might kill me. I know that might sound over-the-top, but if you’ve never experienced debilitating pain, there’s no other way for me to describe it. When I used to get frequent blinding migraines or my monthly menstrual cramps made it impossible for me to get out of bed, I always took comfort in knowing that those pains would eventually end. Now, with this pain, there is never any relief. There is no day on the calendar or time frame after taking medication that I can look forward to because they mean there will be an end to the pain threatening to split my skull open or implode my reproductive organs. The pain radiating from deep in the right side of my pelvis, out towards both hips, down both legs, and up my back has no schedule or half-life to which I can look forward in anticipation of relief.

Some days, like today, the pain is so unbearable; walking, standing, or even sitting still, hurt so badly I don’t know what to do with myself. I don’t know what to do with this anxious energy racing through me that probably adds to the frenetic activity within my nervous system and amps up the pain. I don’t know how to make myself comfortable when I sit because no surface can ever be soft enough against my aching tender skin. While just the thought of trying to rub and massage the hurting parts of myself makes me cringe and nauseated to the point of wanting to vomit.

If the pain, like the type of pain I feel, can kill a person by pushing them to suicide, I can understand why. I’m not, by any means, contemplating ending my life, but I’m uncertain about how long – it’s been three years already – I can live like this not knowing when or if I will get any pain relief. How long can I continue to accept being characterized as a “mystery patient” by my doctors who can’t pinpoint why my body is still reacting, to a growth that is no longer in my pelvis, before it becomes too much to bear? A psychological episode most likely will not be what brings my life to its end. It could very well be the stress of constant pain on my body that makes my blood pressure boil over, causing a stroke, or my blood could become poisoned by the copious amount of opioid pain medications I take, leading my organs to start to fail. Que sera sera…

I know none of this is helpful or optimistic, but this is where my pain sends my mind on days like today when I hurt so badly I don’t know what to do with myself.

 

My Home Is Quiet Once More

After two weeks of lots of activity and chatter, my home is quiet once more. My cousins returned home, overseas, on Sunday and they left me with great memories and a gaping silence. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep up the pace of activity needed to show them a good time and, more importantly, to occupy the attention span of a six-year-old, while still managing to take care of my health, but I somehow managed to do it; and I had fun in the process. Now that they’ve left, my home feels oddly still and quiet, unlike it never has before. To tell the truth I started missing them before they left for the airport.

I didn’t know that having constant company could be so good for my health – emotionally and physically. While my cousins were here, I had a few days of terribly intense pain, but because I wasn’t alone with it, I think I was able to cope better with it than I usually do. I had the foresight to plan rest days in between activity days that involved taking them out to see city sights and some attractions that took us out of the city for the day. Although those days were hard, not missing any pain medication doses and the distraction of chatter and laughter, helped me deal with all the movement and long drives. I also took full advantage of the days that I scheduled for rest, whether it was sleeping in or taking afternoon naps, that my body made it clear I needed – and still do need.

Surprisingly, I was able to cook many of our meals, which I did with pleasure. I think I might have forgotten how much I enjoy cooking for people these past few years while I’ve been ill and, at times, barely able to cook for myself. My cousin was a big help in the kitchen, doing the after-dinner cleanup and helping with some of the prep when I needed it. I don’t think I would have been able to do as much for as many days, if she hadn’t been so supportive. I didn’t even mind getting up early some mornings to make breakfast for my finicky youngest guest, who was very particular about what she would eat for which meals, and how precisely some items had to be prepared. Children’s food preferences don’t always make sense, but I was thrilled when we finally hit on a few items that became acceptable daily staples for her.

Not everything went smoothly for the visit, but nothing ever does in life. They were able to connect with some other family and meet some of my close friends, but most of the 14-day visit was just the three of us. The only hiccups were due to bad weather (rain or extreme heat) that kept us indoors, the odd event not proceeding as planned, or my body making it impossible for me to do much. There were also playdates that never materialized with the children and grandchildren of friends and family, which I had organized in advance to make sure my cousin’s daughter had company close to her age as often as possible to play with, but it was hard getting everyone’s schedules to sync up with so much happening every day.

My Home Is Quiet Once More

With all that activity going on, I didn’t have any time for the anxiety that had gripped me ahead of their arrival to set in again. I also didn’t have much time to myself to do much of the creative things I usually spend my time doing. Before they arrived, I bought my cousin’s little girl crayons, pencils, and markers, and matching sketchbooks for the two of us, thinking that would be a clever way to get us to do something together. Until yesterday, I didn’t drawn a single line in my sketchbook. There was so much activity to plan, whether it was our meals or what attraction or event I had planned for us to do – and I desperately needed the rest days in between – that drawing or doing anything creative was impossible. My cousin’s little girl, however, had plenty of time to play and draw, so my refrigerator is now covered in drawings and handmade birthday cards for which I am truly grateful. When I look at them, my home feels a little less quiet because their bright colours evoke memories of laughter and good company.

 

Thoughts Often Become Reality

I try to be careful about the things I think. Mostly because I do believe in self-fulfilling prophecies, which an article in Psychology Today explains simply as “a belief that comes true because we are acting as if it is already true.” According to the article, “Our expectation that we will see a particular outcome changes our behavior, which shapes the way others see us. In turn, others provide the feedback we’ve set ourselves up to get, which serves to reinforce the original belief.” The idea that the way a person sees himself or herself affects his or her behaviour and how others perceive them and in turn respond to them is something I’ve witnessed my entire life. It’s also something I’ve experienced, which has influenced the way I conduct myself when interacting with others and the image of myself I project for people around me to see.

How the Self-Fulfilling Prophecy Works - Courtesy Psychology Today

How the Self-Fulfilling Prophecy Works – Psychology Today

The unfortunate thing with believing in self-fulfilling prophecies when you’re chronically ill is that it causes – at least for me – a great degree of added stress and anxiety. Even though I’m extremely ill, I find myself, quite often, trying to act better than I feel even though the chances of that making me feel better are slim. I always make the effort to be well-groomed and dressed when I go out – to make sure people can’t see how ill I really am –, even to doctors’ appointments where I’ve had at least one doctor comment on how well I always put myself together. I know that acting as if you’re not ill when you are may sound silly, but psychologically and emotionally it helps to keep me from falling too deeply into depression. It also helps me not feel pity for myself and rarely gives other people an opportunity to engage with pity for me or to treat me gingerly. However, acting healthy or completely well, when you’re not does take a toll on you; and I think, after just a few days into the visit with my cousins, I’m starting to feel it.

Yesterday, I posted about my cousins who arrived on Sunday for a two-week visit. They’ve only been here for two full days, but my body is already feeling the effects of acting as their host. On Sunday when we got home from the airport, we rested for a few hours, and then I made us a light meal for dinner. Not much for someone who is well but a lot for me. Yesterday, we spent most of the day at home because of the extreme hot weather we’re experiencing at the moment and to give them some downtime to adjust to the time difference and recover from jet lag. Then later in the afternoon, we went out to run an errand that didn’t take very long but involved taking a taxi, briefly walking through the local shopping mall, and a short walk home to give my cousins a chance to see the neighbour and get familiarized with it so they can go out without me when they choose. When we returned home, I cooked dinner for us, not giving any thought to the less-than typical day of activity I’d already had.

Well, here we are today. Not out on the day-trip I had planned for us because my legs, pelvis, hips, and back feel like they are on fire. This was part of the reason I had so much anxiety about them coming to visit. I know this isn’t a self-fulfilling prophecy, but it might be whatever the flip side of one would be. By not acting as if I’m ill and not taking my limits into consideration as I move about every day while my cousins are visiting I will cause myself more pain. Therefore, I have to be willing to admit, to myself most of all that I am ill and can’t do as much as they can do every day. I have to remind myself that there is nothing wrong with taking pity on myself for the purpose of self-care, or having others step in to do the things I can’t because all that means is that I’m taking more care of myself. But most importantly, I have to fully accept that I am ill so that when the extra pain kicks in, as it has today, I don’t get angry with myself or feel betrayed by my body.

One of my close friends who knows me well, especially how hard I find asking for help even when I need it, has taken my cousins out for the afternoon to give me some time to rest. I’m very grateful for his help and unspoken understanding. Being on my own for these few hours, I’m realizing that the longer I’m ill and the more I resist acting as if I am, the harsher the reminders I’ll receive from my body. As often as I’ve said in the past that I accept what is happening to me, it seems that I’m still quite a distance away from that being the reality.

 

Muse – Resistance