Sometimes ignoring pain is a bad idea

June 4, 2013

One thing chronic pain does is it teaches you to ignore pain. If I didn’t ignore pain, I’d have long ago stopped eating, sleeping, showering, dressing, laughing, having fun, having sex, walking, writing, and many other things. Instead, I learned to ignore most of the pain and I continued on with my life.

I’m not going to pretend that I don’t feel the pain. But let’s be honest, if you have chronic pain, do you really notice the minor Heelpain? When it’s a 2 on the pain scale, are you even aware of it?

The other day I stepped on something sharp. I let out a small yelp, then checked my foot. I didn’t see anything much, so I continued with what I was doing – getting water for the guests in my living room. A while later, I was sitting on the couch with my feet pulled up next to me (my physical therapist wouldn’t like this, but I do find it comfy) and I happened to see something out of the corner of my eye. I looked again. Half of the bottom of my foot was covered in blood.

Of course, I did what any rational chronically ill person would do: I checked to make sure the blood hadn’t gotten on my dress. Priorities, people. Then I check the couch. When I was sure there was no blood on either, I hobbled to the bathroom. Then I hobbled back to the hallways for supplies, then back to the bathroom. I cleaned up the blood and covered the wound. Easy.

Then I came back and looked around. Everyplace I had walked when I was getting water had little bloody spots on the floor. Oops. I got a damp paper towel. I realized I couldn’t bend over, so I got down on my hands and knees. It wasn’t ideal, but I managed. To mean, this was the worst part.

My friend was trying to figure this out. She asked how it was possible to have that much blood and not feel it. Didn’t it hurt? I tried to explain that after more than 20 years of pain, I just stopped paying attention to pain. It’s not that it didn’t hurt, it’s that I didn’t care. I ignored it.

I know this is hard for someone without pain to understand. For me, it’s just how things work. If the pain is small enough that I can ignore it, then I do. That makes sense, right? Well, ok, maybe in this case I should have paid attention.

I won’t pretend I’ll always pay attention to injury-induced pain, but I’ll make an effort to at least make sure I’m not bleeding. I guess that’s a start. Because for most people, pain is our body’s way of telling us there’s a problem. I guess even for us folks with chronic pain, that’s occasionally the case too.

(Oh, and in case you’re wondering, I saw the doctor and there’s no infection. Thank goodness! Somehow I don’t think antibiotics would help my overall health situation right now. And the hole in my heel is closing up nicely.)

5 Comments | Educating, Pain, Symptoms | Permalink
Posted by chronicrants

Cutting up a cantaloupe

May 30, 2013

I’ve watched my mother cut a cantaloupe. She makes it look so easy! We’ll be in the kitchen, chatting, maybe snacking, and she’ll decide the cantaloupe is ripe enough to eat, so she’ll pull out a knife and quickly cut it up. Simple. I just cut up my first Cantaloupecantaloupe of the season and I can tell you, that’s not how it works for me.

My process starts at the store. After I decide that I want the cantaloupe, I do a quick body assessment. How are my wrists? Will I be able to cut it? How about my back, knees, toes? Will I be able to stand long enough to cut it? I’ve tried sitting, but it doesn’t give me enough leverage to compensate for my wrists. How’s my appetite? Will I be able to eat the whole thing? And cantaloupes  are heavy. Will I be able to carry it into the apartment? Next, I consider the weather. How hot will it be this week? Will it be too hot to spend time in my kitchen while I cut it up? Is the pre-cut cantaloupe on sale so I can buy that instead? Based on all of those answers, I may actually buy the cantaloupe.

Once it’s ready to be cut, I consider all of those same issues. Assuming I feel up to cutting it up, and my kitchen isn’t too hot, I pull out the cutting board and my good knife and I get to work. I go slowly. I have to be careful not to cut myself. After all, with brain fog, distraction, clumsiness, muscle kinks, and balance problems, it’s easy to let the knife slip. Some cantaloupe always ends up on the floor. So at some point I have to be bending over to pick up what dropped and to clean up the sticky spots, and that involves more aches and pains and use of energy. Afterwards, there are dishes to wash and a sticky counter to wipe down. The trash will smell soon from the rinds. It will also attract bugs. So I’ll have to take it out soon.

This time I was lucky. I got the entire cantaloupe cut up with only a few pieces dropped, only one nick with the knife that was too small to draw blood, and no major incidents. The trash will be dealt with later, but the cutting board and knife have been washed. I have some extra pain now, of course, but nothing too much worse than what I’d expect. So all in all, it was a success!

Not too many years ago, before I took Plaquenil, I couldn’t cut up a cantaloupe at all. This is definitely progress. It’s not as effortless as it seems to be for most people, but at least I can enjoy some nice summer cantaloupe.

12 Comments | Decisions, Fatigue, Frustration, Limitations, Pain, Rants, Symptoms | Permalink
Posted by chronicrants

You deserve a good sex partner

May 19, 2013

Too often, people with chronic illnesses feel like we’re lucky to have whatever we get in life. We’re lucky to have a job, no matter how good or bad. We’re lucky to have a spouse, no matter how good or bad. We’re lucky to have friends, no matter how good or bad. But we deserve more than that. We deserve the best! And that’s true for sex partners, too.

I haven’t seen my sex buddy, D, in two very long weeks. There I was, feeling horny today, when I started to question whether I’m physically up to seeing him at all this week. After all, this recent downturn has been really bad, and every bit of activity makes it worse. I’ve written before about how sex can make me feel better, but is it worth trying? Then I remembered just how awesome D is, and I thought about how lucky I am. That made me realize that while I’m definitely lucky to have him in my life, and I shouldn’t take him for granted, I also should never settle for anything less. And neither should you.

Somehow, D has never been phased by my health stuff. I mean, I once crapped on him during sex and he just brushed it off and suggested we clean up together in the shower. Pretty awesome, right? Here are some other ways he’s completely wonderful about my health issues:

  • When I feel especially bad, he does all the work, and never complains.
  • When I’m in pain, he’s extra gentle.
  • He’s careful about avoiding touching areas that he knows are extra sensitive, like my wrists and feet.
  • He’s significantly larger than me and is always careful not to let his extra weight put too much pressure on any part of me that could hurt.
  • We both like sex just a little rough, and when he pins me down, he’s careful to avoid areas that he knows are a problem. He’ll pin my forearms instead of my wrists, for example.
  • When I wince, he always sees it and immediately asks how he can adjust things.
  • When something is clearly difficult for me, he doesn’t push it. For example, last month he was lying on top of me and tried to pull my head/neck up to kiss him. Clearly my body was having none of it, so he just changed positions so I could stay flat on the bed.
  • He respects my illness-related fears. Even if something doesn’t hurt, I might be scared that it will, so he avoids it.
  • He pays attention to good hurt vs. bad hurt and respects both. Good hurt was when he was sucking on my breast and I responded with “Ow! That feels good!” and he kept going. Bad hurt was when I yelped and winced and yelled, “Ow!” and he immediately stopped and asked what was wrong and what he could do differently.
  • When I need to switch positions at an inopportune time, he doesn’t say a word about it.

See what I mean? He’s awesome. Of course, it’s not all him. I have to do my part too.

I have to listen to my body and respect what it wants. I was young when the pain started, so I’ve never had sex without pain. That also means I’ve had a long time to learn how to adjust things. I may not be able to practice all of the techniques or positions I’ve read about, but I have found quite a few popular ones that I can do without pain. I am careful to pace myself. For example, I know that when I give a hand job, I can only go for so long with each hand before the pain gets too bad, so I’m careful to switch before I reach that point, and I always time the switch to be the least disruptive to him. I also position my body to have the right leverage for my arm without straining my neck. I pay attention to what works for him, and I find ways to improve on it that he enjoys and that don’t hurt me. And when pain does sneak in, I make an effort to not let it disrupt things. Like a few weeks ago, when I was just starting to orgasm, and it felt so good, and my body tensed up, and my toes curled, and… OH MY GOD! THAT HURTS!  But I didn’t lose it. I relaxed my feet and uncurled my toes and felt the pain go away just enough, and I kept my head where it needed to be – in the orgasm. I could have let that spear of pain interrupt things, but I didn’t. Obviously that doesn’t work when the pain is at its worst, but so many times I’ve been able to ignore it or use it. And it’s always worth it! Of course, the most important thing I do for myself is communicating. I think that communication is always important during sex, but it’s extra important if you’re dealing with pain and other chronic issues. Tell your partner what’s likely to cause problems in advance, and stop him/her if there are problems in the middle. They won’t mind. And if they do, they don’t deserve you.

So you need to do your part too. You need to make sure you’re doing the best you can for your body. Communicate and respect your own needs. And make sure it’s not all about you – do nice things for your partner, too. Most of all, don’t put up with anyone who isn’t kind, respectful, and understanding. You deserve all of those things, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. We’re sick. We have health problems. Fine. But we are still fine human beings to deserve to be treated as well as everyone else.

4 Comments | Educating, Expectations, Limitations, Pain, Relationships: Family & Friends & Dating & Sex, Support, Symptoms, Thoughtfulness | Permalink
Posted by chronicrants

In my mind I’m different

May 5, 2013

Boston has been having a string of unusually beautiful weather. Don’t get me wrong, I really do love Boston. But usually our weather sucks. I especially dislike summer, since my body is so sensitive to heat and humidity. That’s why this extended Sunny Dayperiod of temperatures in the 60s with lots of sunshine and low humidity has been so wonderful. Even I want to be outside!

But just because I want to be outside, doesn’t mean it’ll actually happen.

I wanted to join some friends for a potluck brunch today. The usual driving route is a mess because of outdoor festivals, so I figured I’d take the T. It’s a bit out of the way to take the subway, but what nice weather for walking! I planned out how to pack up the food. I figured I’d bring both a book to read on the train and also my current crochet project, so I’d have options. I emailed a friend about going together. It was all planned out.

And then I woke up and realized I was in no condition to get out of bed. After more than an hour I got up, but only because my hunger beat out my exhaustion in my body’s debate for which negative feeling to try to resolve. If I lived with someone who could have brought me food, I’d probably still be in bed.

The sun is shining, the trees are blooming, and I’m at my computer. I’ve barely moved all day. While I was reading, though, my mind started to wander. I thought about how lovely it would be to ride a bike. I thought about taking a long walk, for hours, walking miles around these lovely old neighborhoods like so many of my friends do. I thought about how nice it would be to get rid of my car and just walk and bike everyplace.

And then I came back to reality. My body aches. My exhaustion is deep. I haven’t ridden a bike in over 17 years, and for good reason, reason that still exists and which has been joined by even more reasons. Walking 1 mile today is out of the question, and walking 3 miles on even my best day isn’t doable at all. I think about who I am and it just doesn’t match what I can do.

I won’t pretend I was ever athletic. I was never someone who played intense sports and was active all the time. I always watched a lot of tv and did a lot of reading. I don’t think my illnesses changed that. But I also believe that right now, if I got my health back, I would be more active. I would ditch the car and buy a bike. I would walk as much as possible. I would throw a frisbee in the park. And I would have joined my friends for brunch.

Too bad I’m not able to be the person I feel I am.

2 Comments | Expectations, Fatigue, Frustration, Isolation, Limitations, Pain, Rants, Symptoms, Unpredictable | Permalink
Posted by chronicrants

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