Tag Archives for journal

The Last Post-Surgery Check

I’ve hit the six-week mark since having surgery without any major complications: my incision is healing well and I didn’t have any infections. I had my last check yesterday with the gynecological specialist who pushed to get something done to get me better and was a part of my surgical team. From his perspective, everything looks good. He reviewed the pathology reports he requested on the growth he removed from my pelvis, my fallopian tubes, and all the adhesions that stuck that growth to my rectum and my fallopian tubes to my ovaries. All the reports came back with no sign of cancer, endometriosis, or any other diseases for concern. He also assured me that there is very little chance of the growth recurring.

However, he wasn’t happy to hear that the surgery didn’t help to reduce, or what he had hoped, end my pain; or the fact that I’m now taking three times the level of pain medication I was taking before the surgery. He examined my incision; ordered some tests, and then scheduled my next appointment for six months from now. We also discussed the pain clinic’s plan to manage my pain moving forward. In the near future, my pain specialist will attempt to manage my pain with acupuncture. The gynecological specialist assured me that my pain specialist is a very skilled acupuncturist. As much as I like her, feel comfortable with her, and trust her many years of experience; it was comforting to get that vote of confidence in my pain specialist from one of her colleagues.

I left my appointment feeling confident, which has only happened a handful of times during the past two years. Everything isn’t perfect, but now that my surgery is behind me, the growth is no longer in my pelvis, and it was clearly benign; my doctors and I can focus on my pain. We can focus on finding a solution to eliminate it because now we know that the growth may not have been the direct cause of my chronic pain, although, it might have been the catalyst that triggered it. The discovery of the growth also raised awareness about the unusual way my body processes high levels of pain. Now my doctors just have to figure out what to do to make me pain-free again.

 

The Police – King of Pain

 

Gratitude and Creativity: My Body Needs Quiet

Everyone in my life now knows that when they ask me to do something that requires me to shower, get dressed, and then leave my home that the plans we make are tentative. They know this because of days like those that I’ve had for the past few days. On Saturday afternoon I was in so much pain I wanted to cry – of course, no tears would come. The reason I wanted to cry wasn’t solely the level of pain. It was also because there were things happening in my city this weekend and in the lives of some of my friends and family that I’d be able to participate in, if I were pain-free. Every time I have to say no to something because of my pain, it makes me feel sad.

As it is, now the only things I go to no matter how I feel are doctors’ appointments. Although, there are some exceptions when – like a few weeks ago for my dad’s retirement party and my friend J’s milestone birthday dinner – I force myself to go out despite my pain level. I went to both of those events feeling excruciating pain and knowing that I would be in even greater pain afterward. I also knew that it would take a few days to recover from that increased pain. Recover in the sense that my pain returns to levels where I can cope. In this instance, it took the better part of a week to get to “normal” after the party and birthday dinner, which took place within days of each other. The length of time it took to get to a pain level where I could cope was a reminder that I need to listen to my body and accept – and respect – what others may view as limitations, but I know are messages from my body I shouldn’t ignore.

My Body Needs Quiet

I’ve learned, over the past two years, that when I start a day with above normal levels of pain, that I have to listen to my body. What my body is telling me – screaming at me – on these days is that I need to be still; I need to rest; and I need to find quiet. It’s not always easy, but I’m getting better at listening to my body. That means this weekend because of the high level of pain I was feeling, I missed spending time with J, an arts festival, and my cousin’s baby shower that would have required me to exert a lot of energy – and probably pay for it with more pain. I missed those events and I had to do so without any regret.

Unfortunately, missing the physical activity involved in fun events isn’t the only thing that requires mindfulness of my body’s messages. In recent weeks, I’ve been trying to support my cousin who’s been having a tough time in her personal life. I’ve spent a lot of time on the phone with her just listening and being a sounding board, and I think it’s starting to take its toll on me. Because I want to show my support and let her know I’m there for her, I’ve been ignoring my need for quiet time.

Quiet time is something I’ve always factored into my self-care; and I think it’s important for everyone, but of even greater importance for anyone recovering from an illness or living with chronic pain. Reducing the busyness of the mind helps to reduce stress, which can slow recovery or cause pain levels to increase. I believe the continuous activity of phone calls and text messages – and my increasing worry for my cousin – are affecting my pain levels. As much as I know she’s depending on me for advice and comfort, I also know that my body needs time for quiet. I know this probably means not answering every call or responding to every text message from my cousin, but I have to re-establish the necessary balance of self-care for my body, and that includes quiet time.

 

Depeche Mode – Enjoy The Silence

Now My Knees!

I woke up around 4:00 AM this morning because of excruciating pain in both my knees. The pain was sharp and burning. I tried bending then straightening my legs to see if the pain was brought on by the position in which I’d fallen asleep, but that wasn’t it. My knees were full with pain. I had to go to the bathroom and the walk there was unbearable. As I bent to sit on the toilet, I had to fight the urge to cry out because the pain intensified as I lowered myself to sit. While sitting on the toilet I grabbed both knees and tried to rub the pain out of them. The rubbing didn’t help.

After sitting on the toilet longer than I needed to, I gently raised myself up and pulled my pajama bottoms on. I stood looking at myself in the mirror for a moment unbelieving of the pain I was feeling. I’ve had sore knees before, but this wasn’t that. There was fire in this pain that separated it from the pain I typically feel in my legs. It almost felt like it was announcing itself. Telling me it had arrived.

I gingerly walked my way back to bed, which is currently the couch in my living room – I do that from time to time: turn my couch into my bed. I hadn’t taken a breakthrough dose of my pain medication before falling asleep, so I decided to take a half dose because I was only two hours away from starting my pain medication cycle for today. I also took a dose of my anti-anxiety medication to calm myself because in my early morning haze I couldn’t understand this pain and the intensity made my whole body tense; I couldn’t grasp what was happening to my knees.

I tried everything I could think of to make myself comfortable. I settled on elevating my legs with pillows and rubbing my slightly bent knees. I also begged for sleep, which finally came; and must have been very deep because I didn’t hear the alarm for my morning dose of medications at 6:00 AM. In a small way, I’m grateful for that because it meant I probably slept through the worst of the knee pain.

Now the pain is not as bad as it was at 4:00 AM, but my knees are still sore. I don’t understand what’s happening to my body. No matter the medical explanations or speculations, I can’t understand why I suffer with leg, back, hip, and now knee pain because of something that started in my lower abdomen. I can’t understand why, now that the mass is out of my pelvis, I’m having as much, and – as this morning demonstrates – sometimes more pain than I did before surgery. My brain has absorbed all the information thrown at me by my doctors, but emotionally, intuitively, not an ounce of this is making sense.

What the hell is going on inside my body!

 

Counting Crows – Sullivan Street