Tag Archives for pelvic pain

When Hoofbeats Mean Zebras

For some time I’ve been having a recurring dream – actually, it’s now a live waking vision – that I make an appointment to see the doctor who started me on my journey into chronic pain. She no longer works at the hospital where I was first treated for, and ignored when I described, my severe pelvic pain so I would need to do some detective work to track her down. Why would I want to exert any effort to see her you might be wondering? Well, when someone irreversibly changes your life for the worst you get an overwhelming desire to confront them to see the look on their face when you recount for them the hours, days, and months of endless pain you now live with because of their avoidable mistakes.

I believe I deserve an opportunity to tell her how disappointing it was – and continues to be for me – that a female physician was so dismissive of me when I described my pelvic pain symptoms. During my hospitalization, I tried, unsuccessfully, to share my medical history, and family health history, with her on the off chance there might be a relevant connection to something from my past or genetic ancestry. I want her to understand that just because a patient presents some symptoms for a particular illness that they could still very well have something else, and that the old saying of “when you hear hoofbeats, think of horses not zebras“ isn’t always the right medical diagnostic rule to follow.

The results from the first abdominal scans I had were unusual and shocked the Emergency Room doctors, but a lack of expertise meant I had to receive treatment elsewhere. However, once they admitted me to the second hospital the attending doctors seemed to be on a mission to contain my illness to a textbook diagnosis that was more common, predictable, and manageable, which over time proved to be wrong. The diagnosis wasn’t right, yet this doctor continued to work from her flawed viewpoint, while my health deteriorated with each passing day. Oddly, even with my physical decline and increasing pain, she was certain I wouldn’t need to rest for longer than a week after my release from the hospital before returning to work. I want her to know how wrong she was about that too because it’s been almost three years and I’m not any closer to going back to work and no one can see if or when that might be possible for me.

I also I want her to know how wrong she was for under-prescribing pain medication for my pain management and telling me that if I had a pain flare up outside her hospital clinic hours to go the Emergency Room where I could receive additional support. The Emergency Room staff and doctors at that hospital were not supportive. At best, during each of my pain-filled late night visits they thought I was there seeking more opioid-based painkillers and did the bare minimum to treat my pain. Once they read my hospital clinic chart, they didn’t order any more tests or investigate alternative diagnoses; they simply hooked me up to an IV to boost the effects of the painkillers. They then wrote more prescriptions for the same dose of those ineffective pain medications; and told me to go back to the hospital clinic to see the same doctor who was failing to manage my pain because she didn’t believe what she had incorrectly diagnosed could cause so much pain. Poor pain management forced my nervous system into overdrive to respond to the onslaught of pain messages from my body. Now, even with the higher doses of pain medications I take, my nervous system can’t do enough to calm my body or ease the pain.

Because of all of this, in my recurring vision , I am angry. However, the doctor is unrepentant and she falls back on the cliché that medicine isn’t an exact science. I imagine standing in front of her, while trying to ignore my intense pain; bewildered that she refuses to accept any responsibility for the errors that brought such significant changes to my life. Thankfully, my anger is broken by a moment of clarity when I realize that there is nothing for me to gain from such a meeting. Nor do I believe that someone who carries herself through the world with an air of superiority would gain from it. As this vision fades, I see the next person in a line of this doctor’s past patients waiting to tell her similar things, but I know she won’t hear them either. I walk away thankful that I found doctors who are willing to listen to me and understand that sometimes when you hear hoofbeats they are zebras.

 

Joni Mitchell – Both Sides, Now

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

 

Returning to Writing

Today is the first day I am writing here since my surgery on August 11, 2015. It’s not the first day because I was incapable before now. It’s the first day because emotionally I feel ready, although I’m not ready to write about the details of what happened to me. However, I will tell you that regardless of how things have turned out – from a surgical perspective – I still feel blessed. From the moment I woke up from the anesthetics, I’ve had so many people caring for and about me (medical staff, friends, and family), and that care continues today and probably will for some time to come.

The reason I’m writing now is that my emotions overcame me during a conversation I was having with my friend M this afternoon when she told me to “let people care for you. It serves them too.” It’s the first time I cried since having surgery – not counting the moments I will tell you about at another time when I was in the recovery room. M’s words opened me up because, I assume, I needed the right stimulant to open me up. M felt that this emotional breakdown might be a combination of all the chemicals, the drugs, and effects from surgery building up in my body. That does make sense, but what makes more sense is that I haven’t had a moment to be alone with myself and feelings about all that has happened since I came out of surgery and her words landed on me in a way that made it impossible to keep the emotions and tears inside me any longer. So, the tears spilled out, my breath became shallow, my throat ached and my shoulders shook as I cried.

I recognize that I am being cared for, but I haven’t been caring for myself. I haven’t been tending to my emotional needs even though I know that I’m the only person who can do that. Things – unnamed feelings, fears, anxiety, hurt – have been building up and I have to start to release them before they bury me.

 

Peter Gabriel – Digging In The Dirt