All the pages here are taken from a planned book on pain management, but which never transpired as the content wasn’t deemed ‘upbeat’ or ‘rosy’ enough by the publishers. Nonetheless, the pages can be seen as part of such a guide called ‘Taking Hold of Pain Management: A Practitioner’s View’. The pages are gradually being ported over to a single blog, and perhaps extended, so please bear with me when links are incorrect.
I was a gardener and I slipped and fell, as simple as that. The grass on the raised lawn was wet, the ground soft, but the patio a metre below was hard. As I was wearing a 20-litre backpack pump, carrying a hose and wand in one hand and holding the pump handle in the other I could not break my fall. I rocketed forwards and up before finally slamming sideways into the concrete.
I must have blacked out because when I opened my eyes I remember seeing through the patio doors into the customer’s lounge: through the window I could see a tea-party, cupcakes and their best china. However, no-one had seen me fall. I felt dazed and lay there a few moments to gather myself, trying to ignore the rain. There was pain in my arm, my shoulder, my head, my knee – everything on my right side hurt. The expensive nozzle on the spray wand was undamaged, though, and I felt pleased that the boss would not have a go at me for breaking it.
Eventually I climbed back to my feet. They, at least, were not hurt and I could already feel the pain in my knee subsiding, turning into that throbbing that suggests a bruise will soon show itself. My forearm and elbow hurt like a million knives were stabbing into them and I could barely keep hold of the spray-wand as I hobbled back to the van.
The tea party continued, regardless. Perhaps they were used to gardeners lying down on the job.
It was only when I reached the van and tried to take off my backpack that I discovered just how painful my shoulder and arm was. Every move was agony. When I slipped the leaf-blower into the back, a roaring flame of pain tore across my shoulder and down my arm. I dropped the blower, sank onto the tailboard and clutched my arm, totally dazed by the pain. Had I broken it? I managed to slam the doors and struggle to the cab, still in my boots and protective clothing. My arm and side were beginning to throb, signs no doubt of bruising to come.
I waited for the pain to subside, breathing deeply and thinking of balmy days in the sun. That approach did not work. Perhaps a visit to Accident and Emergency was in order.
However, if I was to drive to the nearest A&E department, I would need to control the pain. So I did what anyone else would do: reach for a packet of paracetamol. It was a natural reaction but it was the first step on a very long journey in which I had to battle against severe pain every single day (for the last seven years).
Now, every moment of every day I have some degree of pain ranging from the equivalent of a nagging headache to a pain so intense I am totally unable to do anything other than clutch my arm and shoulder in agony. It is disabling. Like many others in the same situation, pain has destroyed my life, both socially and at work. Being in Chronic Pain has put real pressures on my marriage as the job of being a carer has fallen on the one person I hoped to never overwork: my wife. You could say that pain controlled me and dominated my life; I am lucky my wife and I are still together.
However, that is not to suggest I am after any sympathy. Due to a wide range of pain management techniques, I have been able to take control of the pain and take back a great deal of my life. It is not perfect – nothing can repair the damage and the pain – but I now control my pain and life rather than the pain controlling me.
Mostly. The most recent changess to medication have been almost miraculous, however.
The process of taking back that control was long, complicated and required a great many changes to our lives. What is more, it was an error-prone voyage for us both. I have tried a range of medication, a large number of techniques and solutions and ended up reading far too many books and papers on pain and Pain Management (some are in the appendix). Stories of success and cheer amongst these books are so bountiful that, at one point, I wished I had been able to read an honest account of the mistakes, successes and experiences of a less-than-perfect Pain Management expert. I failed to find one: even the books written by those suffering from Chronic Pain espoused the wonders of a particular Pain Management Method that they had discovered or followed.
I am pleased, even delighted, that there are those who have found success in mastering their pain. At one time, I even felt guilty that I had not had such easy success. However, as I explored ways of controlling my pain I spoke to others in similar situations and began to realise that I was not alone in carving such a wandering path through the Pain Management jungle. Some approaches work: some don’t; some drugs work: some don’t. Some people end up totally pain-free whilst others – like me – do not but are able to regain some control of their lives.
An outsider – someone looking on – may not think that my life is as active or as adventurous as it was before. However, it is my life, lived as best I can, and I enjoy what I am able to do. The only way I manage to live it is having been honest with myself and my pain, learning Pain Management techniques, applying those that work, ditching those that fail and, where I can, adapting many to my situation. My principal carer, my wife, has had to be part of that process, adapting with me, helping me and, most difficult for her, standing back when it is important for her to do so – as almost any parent can tell you, it is difficult to cope with seeing someone you love writhe in pain.
However, everyone with Chronic Pain is in a different situation and has a different set of problems. Their carer or partner is almost certainly very different from my wife with a relationship that is also very different. What follows, then, is an account of how Pain Management techniques work and fail in my experience and from my viewpoint, that of a lay practitioner who is not medically or clinically trained.
In sharing such a story, I have pulled together themes so that anyone reading can see what might work for them and, perhaps, what the pitfalls may be. I also share my thoughts and feelings throughout and include comments and observations from others I have known. By doing so I hope that other sufferers and their carers may learn from my experiences and bring their own lives back into balance.
I hope I can share my experiencees so they help others.
Continue to: What is Chronic Pain?
Tim's Sceap Tome 