So here I am in my sixth official month of pain. By this I mean physical crazy pain that isn't made better by anything other than surgical intervention. The month of May found me waking up at 2 am with a pain so intense that by 4 am I was begging for death. I told my husband to please drive me to the nearest hospital (which was the scariest hospital) because that is how desperate I was. After not being seen for hours and hours the prophylactic drug that I had taken for the pain started to kick in and provide a little relief and after watching the third stabbing victim come through the doors I informed the Triage nurse that I was leaving as it was now 6am and I was going to my doctor. She said, "good call".
My husband said that we were so close to the better hospital that we should try and go there and have a look see to see if there were any patients. Low and behold there were none. It was like an ah ha moment with the heavenly gates opening up and there were bells and singing and drugs, glorious drug, administered immediately upon arrival. It was not the exploding ovarian cyst that I thought it was, but a ........kidney stone. A minuscule calcification of death and destruction. It was stuck. The doctor informed me that it should pass on it own and handed me more drugs and a recommendation for a urological evaluation in the next day or two.
My doctor, a kind man, also said that the stone would pass, but..........it never did. So after many trips to the ER for pain control and doctors followups, it was determined that this tiny tyrant would have to be surgically removed. This after two months of constant PAIN.
Ah relief.....then came the bursitis on the hips from working out too hard. PAIN. A month later I had just gotten the pain under control when my kneem while going down on the floor to procure a sick cat from under the bed, popped. I thought nothing of this popping as I was prone to cracking and creaking. I then went to belly dancing class for not one but two and one half hours of incredibly vigorous dancing and then for five hours I went shopping for an elusive wedding guest dress for my mom all the while finding it harder and harder to walk because of, you guessed it, the pain. By the afternoon it was so severe I was dragging my leg behind me and going to the urgent care center to see if I had ruptured my knee in some way and after many tests it was determined that I had torn my medial meniscus in the left knee.
PAIN... and lots of it. Surgery will be required to remove the pain, and probably some painful rehabilitation as well for four weeks after that. Will I miss the pain? I wonder...
I will say that some good has come out of the pain. With pain comes creativity and I am spewing out all kinds of crafty projects. My office looks like a Michael's threw up in here. With pain comes sympathy. My husband is doing a lot more around the house and that's always a good thing. With pain comes peace from not having to do things for your friends. And rest. Lost rest from going and going and going.
So I will miss my pain......but I am sure that it will rear its ugly head once again. Someday.
