The Worst

As a part of the undiagnosed ridiculousness that I live with, I experience a variety of pain:

• plantar fasciitis
• ankle pain (not otherwise specified)
• patellofemoral pain (knees)
• hip pain (not otherwise specified)
• degenerative disc disease (lumbar)
• hand pain (not otherwise specified)
• sciatic nerve pain
• and probably more that I really just don't want to think about right now.

But the worst pain of all is the neck pain.

I could feel it coming on as I went about my day on Saturday.  I should have paid more attention to the little twinges of pain shooting from my skull down my arm and back, but they were only "little" twinges and so I ignored them.  I should have immediately embarked on a quest to quash them with strong doses of anti-inflammatories, muscle relaxants, hot packs, and Bengay.  But, as I said, they were "little" twinges, so I ignored them.

Sunday they refused to be ignored any longer.  I woke up before my alarm (after having a miserable night's sleep) with the pain pulsating, ripping through my body every time I moved, and rendering me unable to do most things for myself.  I couldn't lift my arms above anything that moved my elbows away from my sides, not even to get a cereal bowl from the cupboard.  Bending to lift the milk from the fridge and holding it to pour it would have made me scream.  But I needed food in order to take the massive amount of anti-inflammatory that I should have taken the day before when I could reach the cereal bowls and lift the milk.

Enter my superhero--Sir Husband the Wonderful.  He spent the morning bending and lifting and carrying for me.  He poured me a bowl of cereal, got me my box o' meds, and brought me the Kleenex box when the crying-from-pain started to impair my abilities to see and breathe, much less eat.  He helped me get my clothes, smothered me with Bengay, and brushed my hair (some, anyway.  I know I was asking a lot).

I wasn't able to do anything yesterday.  I couldn't knit.  I couldn't read.  I couldn't watch TV.  Everything was uncomfortable.  Of course, soon the meds kicked in and my brain abandoned me.  The combination of multiple bottles that caution, "May cause drowsiness" is usually marked drowsiness.  I was loopy.  I was out of it.  Of course, after adding a sleeping pill to try to just knock myself out to make the pain and loopiness go away, I received an email that needed prompt attention (or at least an "I have received this email and will get right on that... tomorrow, when I can think again" response) and could barely keep my eyes open long enough to register that what I was typing was not showing up properly on the screen.

I slept moderately well last night--better than I do most nights, but not as well as I expect to when I take a sleeping pill.  This morning, the pain is better than it was yesterday, but still a powerful presence.   Sir Husband is off slaying dragons (working), so I'm on my own today.

I hate when my neck hurts.  The last time it hurt this badly (right before my birthday a year and a half ago) I ended up going to the ER at 4am.  I can't do anything, like I said above, but even more so, I can't do things like shave my legs and wash my hair.  I have to rely on others to help me so that I can get food and put on a sweatshirt.  And I can't just sleep because I can't find a comfortable position laying down (unless, of course, I am just so medicated that my eyes won't stay open anymore at all and I'm incoherent).  I never know when it will strike, but when it does, my life comes to a screeching, agonizing halt.

To add insult to injury, I don't even know what causes it.  The ER said "myofascial pain."  My GP at the time said "pinched nerve."  My rheumey says, "I'm not worried about it."  Oh, yes.  He's not worried because it's not causing damage (so far as he can tell without running x-rays, MRI, or any other test other than physical exam) and still responds to the treatment (eventually.  After being miserable for a few days.  But does he care?  No).  To me, this says that the problem is recurring.  That means something is wrong and it's just going to keep coming back again and again.  I don't know if it will get worse, but without treatment to actually find and fix the problem, it can't possibly get better.

I suppose that the responsibility really is mine, and that I ought to call up my new GP (gotta meet her sooner or later anyway) and be the squeaky wheel.  SIGH.  I'm not in the mood to be in more pain though, and that's what driving, sitting, and then being poked and turned and bent will do.