Tag Archives for Spoonie Problems

Prepared to Pluck Polyps

After some juggling of schedules, I’m finally having surgery today because last Spring the results from my follow-up abdominal ultrasound scan showed that I have a uterine/endometrial polyp. My Gynecologist decided it was best to remove it, and not leave it alone and subject me to abdominal scans every six months to monitor it for changes. If I had demanded he leave it alone – say because I feared extreme post-surgery pain – any changes that showed up in later scans could have signalled cancer. Even the slimmest chance of that happening was enough for me to accept my Gynecologist’s decision.

To be honest, I expected to have the surgery in the fall, but I had to place a priority on the treatments and programs I already had scheduled for my chronic pain during those months. My continued pain was also a big part of the focus for my surgery pre-admission appointment last week. I spent about four hours in the hospital’s Pre-Admission Center on Friday, meeting with nurses, technicians, and doctors to discuss my medical history and identify any current health issues, have blood drawn for tests, and get a general physical. The nurse was the first person I met with and at one point, while looking through my electronic medical files; she rightly stated that I spend too much time in hospitals.

During my meeting with the nurse, I had to recount the history of my illness, the outcome of my last surgery and recent treatments, and the long list of medications I now take to cope with my pain. As pleasant as she was, while I sat there and went through all those details, the interaction put a sharper edge on the pain I was feeling. At one point, she noticed my creased forehead and asked if I was all right. There wasn’t much I could say in response, except that it was just my usual pain, which thankfully she couldn’t tell was a lie. Before I moved on to the next stop in the pre-admission process, she gave me some literature on my surgery, a Hysteroscopy, and although I’ll be under general anesthesia, will not require any abdominal incision(s) because it will take place entirely within my uterus. Oh, joy!

Next, I met with the blood technician who took three or four vials of blood. I’m rarely sure about how many vials get filled for blood tests because having my veins pierced by the needle always hurts like hell and I never look. I am concerned about what the results from the blood tests might be because recent tests have uncovered that I have low iron – which means I’m anemic – and I have low blood (hemoglobin) levels. If I have below normal blood levels again, my surgery might be rescheduled until I get a boost. Thankfully, when I later met with the doctor for my physical, the session was short and didn’t cause me any extra pain.

My last stop, in the pre-admission process was with an Anesthesiologist, who is a member of the hospital’s Pain Team. I had to meet with someone from the Pain Team to discuss the possible outcomes of the surgery with respect to my pain. The type of surgery I’m having is usually a Day/Ambulatory Surgery procedure, meaning that you get to go home once you wake up and don’t show any adverse reactions to the anesthetics. In my case, the chronic pain I live with daily is factored into when I might be allowed to go home. If, when I wake up, I don’t have unmanageable pain I can go home on the same day. However, if my pain can’t be controlled I’ll be kept, at least overnight, until my pain reaches a level I can cope with at home. I’m hoping for the former because I want to come home and sleep in my bed after it’s all over, but knowing what I do now about my pain’s unpredictability I have to prepare for anything.

♦

This is what I was listening to as I posted this morning…

The Beatles – Hey Jude

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.

 

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