It’s just after five in the morning and I have been awake for more than an hour with pain that splits my body in two. I’m trying not to weep but I can’t stifle the tears.
I had been making progress, so I thought. I had started attending a new physio who emphasized that recovery was as much psychological as physical. She gave me some uncomplicated exercises to do and encouraged me to take less medication, stay up longer and engage more with people and with life. And I did. And I tried. And I thought I was making great strides – my colour was better, my weight up, my activity increased, my pill consumption down.
And then, literally overnight, the pain came surging back. I woke at 3am Saturday with pain in my hips and buttocks that I didn’t have before, and with my lower back feeling like a poker was buried in it. In a matter of hours the pain levels had gone from a livable with three/four to an uncopable with seven/eight. And the frustrating thing was I couldn’t understand why. I tried to remember if I had done anything differently, if I had over or under exercised but I hadn’t. This enemy had simply attacked me again without forewarning or reason, and I was so disappointed. The pain in the hips has eased now, but my back is worse than ever.
I was going to forgo the surgery for the spinal cord stimulator, both because my new physio counseled against any more procedures and doubted it would help me a whole lot anyway, and because I really don’t want to subject my battered body to more trauma, but I am changing my mind. Pain has made my life miserable. It has left me unsure of what any day is going to bring. It has left me deeply unhappy.
If the spinal cord stimulator doesn’t work, and this new physio regime turns out like the rest, then, as I’ve said so often before, please just let me go.