Tag Archives for journal

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 iPhone 6s: No Replacement Joy

Today, Apple released its much-anticipated iPhone 7, with the usual fanfare to a gaggle of media and Apple acolytes, who seem to wait with bated breath each time a new version of an i-something is announced. Yesterday, I picked up my replacement iPhone 6s. There was no excited anticipation, or celebration, on my part and it took less than ten minutes for the representative at my local Apple Store’s Genius Bar to hand me my replacement phone after removing it from a nondescript white box and inserting my phone’s SIM card. My replacement phone, or as Apple calls it: a ‘service phone’, is a refurbished iPhone 6s that replaces the brand new, shiny, Space Gray, iPhone 6s I bought at the end of June that was defective out-of-the-box.

The store representative was happy to send me on my way after that brief interaction. My destination was home, to load my backed up data on to this replacement and pretend the defective phone was replaced with something new. The problem is, I know it’s not new. I know – because I asked someone an unexpected question – that Apple’s policy is to replace their products, when they are defective out-of-the-box, with refurbished products. Products that have had part(s) interchanged within their shells when they have failed diagnostics tests that indicate a hardware, not a software flaw; and knowing that makes me feel like crap because it’s not in any way – at least not to me – comparable to the phone the I paid hundreds of dollars for roughly two months ago. A decision I feel stupid for making, not because I’m an avid Apple fan, but on the basis that I didn’t have to learn how to use a new manufacturer’s phone and that my iPhone 4 had been reliable for four years so I believed this new improved model should be just as good.

In recent conversations I’ve had with Apple Support representatives, they’ve made it clear to me that Apple doesn’t have a problem explaining and supporting this policy of replacing the defective products people pay hundreds of dollars for with refurbished equipment. Even the Apple Store manager, to whom I made it clear that I paid out-of-pocket for my phone, when she flippantly suggested that my phone was a freebie I received as part of a locked-in-until-your-kids-are-old-enough-to-drive contract many people sign on to with their mobile phone service providers, only stumbled for a moment before getting back on-message. Not even my mobile service provider was aware that this happens with Apple’s defective out-of-the-box products, until I called them to see what options I might have in lieu of accepting what I consider a sub-standard replacement. In fact, the representative I spoke with stated, that he’d never had another customer call with my issue and that “I’m dumbstruck, especially coming from Apple that’s supposed to be the ‘Cadillac’ of companies,” when I explained some of the Apple Store manager’s rationale for why they use ‘service phones’.

I guess giving customers refurbished product must be at the top of the lesser-known policies Apple uses to grow profits and keep a high percentage of product market share, while presenting their glossy image – as they did today at the iPhone 7 launch – because people rarely think to ask the question I did. Now I get to walk around, until I replace my phone in another three or four years, with the displeasure of knowing that I have an iFrankenphone that was built to replace defective part(s) instead of the brand new, shiny, Space Gray, iPhone 6s I spent a shitload of money for.

 

Jerry Reed – She Got the Goldmine, I got The Shaft

 

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.