The Eighth Post: "1-2-3 Intensity!"

I used to be an athlete. And even well after I considered myself a true athlete, I was in still in great shape. I ran at least three (most of the time five) miles per day. I was strong, not only because I lifted weights, but also because in my mind I knew no one could ever stop me. My athletic intensity was unwavering. You can’t learn that type of intensity. It is innate, genetic -- it's the sort of thing that never leaves your bones. 

When I was an athlete no one could beat me. I would take on any challenge because I would honestly believe I could win anything I competed at… I would play basketball against men in the University of Iowa Field House and win one-on-one games with ease. I would never allow anyone to run next to me on a track because I was in my own mental race with them, I'd push past them without a fleeting thought… In the gym, I would turn my treadmill up faster -- and on a higher incline -- than the guy, or girl, next to me because I wanted to show them that I was stronger, faster, and more capable.

And then.... When I was 23 I got sick.

In years past, I had broken my arm twice, broken every finger, torn ligaments in my ankles, and had concussions; this was definitely different.  It was the absolute worst pain I had ever felt. It was sharp and dull and throbbing and stabbing pain that was connected to every movement in my body: move a finger, feel a rush of pain; move a toe, shed a tear. That was fifteen years ago.

Nearly two months ago I was in the hospital. Just yesterday, I almost had to go back once more… I have lost count of number of times I’ve had the pleasure of being stuck with IV needles and hooked up to pain pumps filled with morphine. For over 15 years, I’ve had, what doctors refer to as, “chronic pain”.

Chronic…habitual…constant…recurring…continual…persistent…

Seems it’s a very common term these days, “chronic pain.” So common, in fact, when I tell new people what is wrong with me, they brush it off as no big deal. And I understand. I mean, how is anyone to empathize with what they can’t even begin to imagine? Being in pain every day, every second, of their life? It would be so much easier wrap one's mind around the concept of a starving child, or an abused pet, because everyone has felt a pang of hunger at one time in their lives, or felt seen the innocent eyes of the dogs in the shelters? Yet chronic pain? All. The. Time. Pain.??? Even if you've had a terrible injury, it's gone away and emotionally it doesn't break you down every day. Think about childbirth, supposedly one of the worst pains we can all go through, right?  It's that old saying, your mind let's you forget the pain- otherwise, why would the world keep on having babies? So, can anyone really “get” chronic pain if you don't have it yourself? I don't honestly know, but I have some great friends and family that try their best to empathize, there is no doubt about that.

In some ways, the public has become numb to the term “chronic pain,” just as they have become numb to words such as, “murder,” “war,” or “breaking news.” I mean, if you watch TV at all, then you’re familiar with the drug commercials for “chronic pain sufferers.” They sell awesome pain and anti-inflammatory meds with side-effects that may (or may not) include dizziness, blurred vision, heavy sweating, weight gain, hair-loss, hair-growth in unwanted places, memory loss, and, wait for it, oily discharge (WTF?). Well, rest-assured that I’ve taken them all. I’ve been on ten drugs at once, and then fifteen drugs, and then no drugs, and then more drugs again. I’ve been high; I’ve been low; I’ve been dizzy; I’ve heavy sweated; I’ve gained weight (lots); I’ve been balding; I’ve had a chin hair or two; Well, duh, I have chronic pain. (But hey, at least I’ve avoided that oily discharge thingy, because, oh shit, literally).

I have A LOT of pain people. I have TEN herniations in my GD spine that “doctors” say is a genetic problem, exacerbated by my life as an athlete (how fucking ironic, right?). One of my discs, the bottom one, is completely missing, so I have bone rubbing upon bone with every step I take. Wiggling my toes, if I can even feel them on a given day, can make me collapse in pain.

If I walk fifty feet from my car to the grocery store door, I have to take a deep breath to push through the pain. Then I will lean on a grocery cart to shop because otherwise I can’t navigate the aisles. I’d pass out from the pain of it all otherwise. I have learned to use breathing techniques to make it through almost every trip longer than ten feet, and I’ve used my sense of humor to make light of the sweating that results from the pain or the meds or both. There is a positive though, I can almost always keep a smile and a decent attitude. Almost always.

And just so we can get past the “have you tried this” or “have you tried that” thing (because that is always what comes next after I tell people what is wrong with me), here is what has gone on in my life…I’ve had several surgeries (ten to be exact); multiple injections of steroids; injections of numbing agents; cauterizing of nerves; acupuncture (3 sometimes 4x per week); massage; chiropractic adjustments (three a week at times); holistic solutions; drugs for pain; drugs for stopping synapses from firing in the brain; more drugs for swelling; drugs for relaxing muscles; And I’ve even had a machine permanently implanted in my back- it’s called a neuro-stimulator and it sends electrical shocks to my spinal cord in order to try to trick the nerves into feeling electrical shocks in rather than pain running down the lower third of my body. So yes, I’ve tried it all. I’ve been to more doctors and hospitals than most people see in a lifetime, and the bottom line is always, “you have to learn to live with this, it’s the way you will spend the remainder of your life.”

Having pain is an abstract problem. I get that. After all of these years, I finally appreciate that lots of people can never understand or grasp the concept of being in pain 100% of the time, and I'd never wish it upon any of them. And I most definitely now comprehend how others can't put their arms around the often times dark mental space I have to pull myself out of, just to wake up each morning and function as a normal person. Finally, after all of these years living this way, I have come to realize that there are some great people out there who all try their best to help and understand. Geez, if the shoe were on the other foot, I’d mostly roll my eyes too- "just get better for God's sake, stop complaining,  the old 'back' excuse is getting OLD, really, really OLD".

On my Varsity high school basketball team, before taking the floor for a game, we’d say, “1-2-3 INTENSITY," and I'd feel such a rush of adrenaline. These days, it’s what I say when I wake up each day (sorry, that is so Jerry McGuire, but it's true).  I need that extra push to put my feet on the bedroom floor and begin pushing through normal, everyday activities. Pouring cereal, opening the fridge, and then pouring the milk…most days that can make me double-over in pain. Scrubbing a sink? Forget it, I have to mentally prepare for days to break the Soft Scrub out. Washing my tub? I have to meditate and take two pain pills before I even attempt it. Forget carrying the laundry down a flight of stairs, or bending to pick up toys. It is a different way of life, but over the years, WE’VE adjusted.

It helps that my husband is possibly the greatest human being to exist on the planet. No, he has not won a Nobel Peace Prize or solved Global Warming.  Poor guy never even won a scratch off lottery ticket before he got stuck with my back and me. And God love him, he married me knowing my back was this way. I’m sure he always thought it would get better, and the journey we’ve been on would never be the way it has turned out, but he went through with it knowing it could be really, really bad, and it has been.  Probably worse then he could have ever imagined.

Hubby seen here contemplating his decision. Photo Cred: Barb Fyfe

This man comes home from twelve-hour workdays to do the laundry and clean the house. He takes off precious time from a high-pressured job to take me to every doctor’s appointment. He researches new possible cures in Europe and finds specialists in big hospitals doing new things in other cities here in the U.S. He’s always picking up slack, and there is so much slack to pick up. This man, who has lost his mother to cancer and his father to multiple organ failure, all in the last 7 years, picks up MY slack. He nurses me, he loves our children, he puts them to bed, he puts me to bed, and then does more work for his actual job or things around the house. It is simply amazing…and he never complains to me.

Greatest. Human. Being. Ever.

Sometimes I worry that he will leave us all in disgust, but just when I feel that way he sits on the couch and holds my hand and tells me how sorry he is that I can’t do the things I want to do.  You could not wish for a better person to grace your life. And the crazy thing about my husband, if this happened to a friend, he’d be at their house doing the same things for them, I doubt he ever thought twice about marrying me. Often times, the pressure he is under worries me, but he seems to brush it all off because I have chronic pain, oh, and because he must really love me.

His determination to get me better, or feel better just for a day, makes me want to be better, and not wallow in self-pity (not saying I don’t go there, because I frequently do, but he can bring me out just within minutes of going to that dark place many people with chronic pain go to live the remainder of their days). He keeps me laughing and I like to think I keep him laughing (because, if I had to face facts, my quick wit is just about the last thing left that’s quick about me). Without cracking up, we'd probably both lose it.

My husband. He works so hard for this family. Not just the way normal people work hard for their families. My husband has saved my life.

Fifteen years ago, when I would workout, I would do it because it made me feel like I was strong, determined, intense… Honestly, I would love to go back to that space, the place where I was indestructible and undeniably, an athlete.  But since I now am able to admit to myself it is quite impossible to be that person ever again, I am happy to be strong, determined, and intense in a different way all-together. I fight through each day, and I do it for myself and for my children. And I do it for the man who fights for me, the strongest, most intense, most determined, and most committed person I have ever known.

Greatest. Human. Being. Ever. Thank you, Jason.

Here he is, the best! In a rare relaxing time floating down the Zambezi River in Africa