For Ladies Only...or maybe not

I can't begin to describe the agony I was in after the accident.  And I have a pretty high tolerance for pain.  Outside of toothaches and hard labor pains anyway.  What I was left with after my encounter with the 'red light runner,' rates right up there with those two experiences.  Except labor eventually ends and dentists can fill or pull a tooth pretty quickly. 

This went on round the clock, month after month after month.  And all I looked forward to were the shots the doctor thought would help.  But I couldn't have those until all the testing was finished, and circumstances beyond my control caused that to take longer than it should. 

Finally, about five months later, I went in for the first of a series of three shots over a month or so.  I was offered an I.V. sedative but I've had enough I.V.'s in my life (pregnancy related) that it didn't seem like any shot could hurt that bad, so I said no.  I'd just tough it out. 

Wow.  What an experience.  Amazingly enough the shots did hurt.  At least as bad as an I.V.  But it wasn't anything I couldn't tolerate, and I didn't have to worry about feeling groggy the rest of the day.  Or groggier than had become normal by that point. 

Those first shots, one somewhere along the spine, and a second one in the bursa of my left hip were wonderful.  Almost immediate pain relief.  I was so happy I could have danced, but I knew better.  Just because the pain was essentially gone didn't mean the injuries were.

When the shots wore off within ten days, I was discouraged.  Relief from excruciating pain, only to have it return full force, only makes it feel worse.  So I was a little skeptical for the next two appointments.  With good reason because the next two sets didn't have any effect at all.  On the pain.

They did, however, have a peachy little side effect no one bothered to mention.  Can we say irregular periods?  I don't know about you but just one regular four or five day period every month is more than enough for me.  

Try nine in six months, each one lasting ten days to two weeks. 

At first it scared the heck out of me and I started Googling it.  Could there be a correlation between the steroid shots and what was going on?  Yup.  And it's fairly common, too, from what I was able to find.  Common enough that it should have made the side-effect list they gave me. 

I'm not sure what decision I'd have made had I known at the onset that the shots weren't going to help.  Probably gone ahead and gotten them anyway.  I was pretty desperate.  At least now I don't have to weigh pain relief at the expense of half my life on a period.

Would I have more shots?  Not a chance!  I wasn't impressed with the three sets I had (all without I.V. sedation).  I was even less impressed with what followed.

So why did I share this experience?  Because you need to be informed about any procedure you have done. And not just from the information doctors choose to give you.  Get all the facts.  

Many women thought they might be experiencing early menopause-or even symptoms of cancer-when it was nothing more than an unpleasant side effect of the shots.  So check it all out before you agree to anything like this. 

Even men, because you could be surprised, too.

What Lies Ahead

I don't know about you but I worry about the future more now than I did before.  If, almost two years after my auto accident, I'm still in a great deal of pain, I'm still not able to do many of the things I used to do, and I'm still experiencing issues with the TBI and PTSD, what will life be like in five, ten and thirty years?

Will the injuries to my hip, shoulder, lower back and neck be more likely to develop arthritis?  Will the focus, fatigue, being over-stimulated too easily and all the rest of the brain injury symptoms continue to cause me problems?  Is there really a connection between mild TBI's and the risk of developing Alzheimer's? 

What about my writing?  I've written fiction since I was fifteen years old (not gonna say how long ago that was!).  

In twenty-two months I haven't even written a chapter in the book I was working on at the time the accident occurred.  I haven't been able to write anything else in the fiction genre either.  But, five months before I was hit, from conception of the idea to the final editing, I wrote a 45,000+ word book.  Two or three weeks prior to the accident, I wrote a short story and submitted it to a national writing contest.  (nope, there were two winners and I wasn't one of them)

Twenty years from now am I still going to be spending the majority of my time hiding out in my office because it's easier than being around people?  Because crowds, or too much noise, or whatever are still almost more than I can bear?  Because I sometimes fear being beat up should I ever give in to the urge to run a particularly rude person over with my shopping cart? (that urge rises up more often than you'd think-like every time I step inside a grocery store!)

Will driving around to look at fall colors, or holiday decorations ever not make me feel exhausted?  Will I ever host another bonfire (a years-long tradition) for my mother's birthday?  And what about my annual New Years Eve party?  Just games, pizza and sodas, but it used to make for an enjoyable-and safe-celebration.

Then there's Christmas.  I have more decorations than anyone I know-and I used put them on anything that didn't move.  I also spent the end of November and all of December baking cookies, making candies, watching any and all manner of Christmas movies, reading all of my favorite Christmas books (which even have their own special shelf), listening to Christmas music from dawn until dusk...and just generally loving every single minute of the holidays.  It's the only time of year when I didn't mind shopping-because I loved buying gifts.

I don't even remember the first Christmas after the accident.  Well, except for two stand out events.  One was baking one batch of three different kinds of cookies with my daughter because I promised.  The previous year we'd been packing in preparation for a move to our new house in mid-January, so we didn't celebrate much.  The first Christmas in our new house was supposed to be special, to make up for the last one.  But I wound up in bed, and in severe pain, from that too brief baking session.  

Then there was my family's Christmas Eve party, something we've done every year since I was a kid.  That year my baby brother hosted it.  And I was scared.  I'd wound up in emergency Thanksgiving night because it hadn't registered yet that I couldn't bake and prepare for the holiday for two days without consequences.  But Christmas Eve I knew what might happen if I overdid things again.  

My biggest fear was that the party was being held in the basement rec room, which meant a steep flight of stairs.  They offered to move it to the main floor, but they have white carpet and I didn't want to be responsible for any damage to that.  So I didn't eat or drink anything all day because I knew I'd be lucky to make one trip down and then back up.  If a visit to the bathroom became necessary, the party would be over for me and my kids. 

But the party never really started for me because food preparation and the trip downstairs did me in.  I had to take a pain pill-and required help from two people to get back upstairs when it was time to leave.  Pretty sad memories of my favorite holiday.  

Six months later, after a miserable, disastrous, and painful Easter dinner, I stopped inviting people to my house.  Not that it was much of a dinner.  I made minimal effort and my daughter did most of the work on the scaled down menu.  That was the first year in my entire adult life that I didn't make four or five from scratch pies.  I didn't even make one.  Instead I bought two pretty little frozen cakes.  And homemade rolls...forget it!

These are the things I wonder about.  And you may wonder about me reminiscing about Christmases past in August.  But that hasn't changed about me.  I hated summer before the accident and I hate now.  And one of the ways I get through these unbearably hot, humid days is to think about Christmas.  

 Only now I'm not looking forward to it.  Now I dread it with all my heart.  

Are these the kinds of things I have to look forward in my golden years?  Nothing to look forward to?  And let me tell you, a life mostly alone in my office isn't even remotely close to the life I had planned. 

Just One of Those Weekends...

I've always loved family get-togethers but, since the accident, they're not as easy as they used to be.  It's like any additional stress is like the proverbial straw that broke the camels back.  All week I've been trying not to stress out about the annual family reunion today.  Not that I wasn't looking forward to it in many ways because I was.  But I also know what to expect from events now and I tend to dread them. 

What do I expect?  Extra work in getting food ready to take.  Exhaustion from the drive to and from wherever the event is being held.  Usually at least thirty minutes away.  I'm not sure how bad it would be if I were doing the driving, although maybe it wouldn't be bad.  At the rate it's going, who knows when I'll find out though.

There's also the event itself.

I can guarantee you that no one on the planet loves their family-the whole family-more than I do.  But I have to force myself to mingle now.  For one thing, standing up and walking around much hurts.  A lot (though I have to say that walking is much easier than just standing in one place).

Then there's the fact that there is so much going on around me.  Conversations, kids playing, games...  Normal things.  Yet things that tire me out beyond belief.

Fortunately I'm a big believer in the 'fake it until you make it' philosophy.  If not for that, I'd always stay closed up in my office, where things are calm and quiet, easier to take.  Very little stress.  Except doing that wouldn't get me any closer to living the life I enjoyed before the head injury.   

Even so, last night I started considering what excuses I might use for staying home.  The possible reasons were running through my mind while I was preparing the casserole-because I knew if I waited until this morning, I'd be in too much pain to even pretend to be having a good time. As it stands, I think this is the second time in my life that I've not taken a dessert.  The first time was last year...

So...

I just thought I'd share one of the many ways my accident and injuries have screwed up my life.  Did I have a good time?  Yes I did.  I find that if I seek out one person and concentrate on that conversation, it's easier.  Then I move to another.  Today I stayed almost two and a half hours.  That's quite awhile for me these days.

The stress from it, though, did make me realize that I'm going to stop posting blogs on the weekend.  Since that's when most events take place, I need to keep them as stress free as possible, and the pressure of preparing for the reunion yesterday was too much.  

Are They In Your Corner?

If you're injured in an automobile accident and are experiencing a great deal of pain, as well as impaired mobility, one of the best things that could happen to you is to be referred to a physiatrist.  (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Physiatrist)

I was fortunate to be referred to an especially good one, and he has overseen my care for more than eighteen months.  How do I know he's that good?  Because my case manager, who usually works in a very large metro area, told me so.  I already suspected that, but it was nice to hear my opinion confirmed.

I haven't always been so fortunate during this ordeal though.  At one point I was referred to a pain management specialist who was something less than impressive.

She was supposed to teach me techniques to 'close the pain gate.'  (see http://www.holisticonline.com/remedies/backpain/back_pain_gate_control_theory.htm) 

Close the pain gate?!  Okay!  At that point in my recovery, I could see where suicide might, eventually, become a viable option for pain relief so yeah.  I was all for closing that gate.  Let's slam that sucker shut, paddle lock it, weld it, build a brick wall around it, do whatever it takes to keep that baby closed!

Except to my surprise and disgust (mostly disgust), she suggested I start making use of things like motorized shopping carts, wheelchairs and walkers with seats.  You know, so I could walk awhile, sit and rest awhile, walk a little more... 

What???!!!

This wasn't teaching me to close any gate!  This was basically telling me to give up and accept life as an invalid.  I really wanted to tell her to bite me, but held my tongue, finished out the appointment, then couldn't get out of there fast enough.  Literally, since I was still walking slow as a snail at the time.  When I ranted about it to my doctor he told me I didn't need to see her anymore.  Good thing because I hadn't planned on gong back!

You need to make very sure that you, and those who are treating you, are on the same page.  My doctor and I are.  The pain management specialist and I were not.

Had I listened to the well meaning garbage coming out of her mouth, I'd be destined to life in a wheelchair.  Instead, I got  hooked up with a great physical therapy program.  When I started, walking for 5 minutes on a treadmill set at 0.4 mph was like torture.  When I had to stop treatments nine months later, due to insurance issues, I was up to 1.7 mph for 20-30 minutes.  Quite a nice improvement.  I miss the treadmill though.  The pace is steadier and less painful than walking on solid ground.

To back up a second.  You'll note that I said great physical therapy program.  Trust me, some programs aren't even good.  My first round of PT falls in that category.  So I thought I'd try pool therapy through the same company.  It fell in to another category.  That would be called a very bad program. 

The third choice was the charm though.  These therapists knew exactly what they were doing.  While they never pushed me to the point where I'd hurt myself more, they didn't cut me any slack.  Which worked well for me because I don't cut myself much slack either.  I was always up for anything that would help me get back to normal faster.  Any time they asked if I wanted to try something new, I always said yes.  Sometimes I wish I hadn't but in the end, it always proved to be a good decision.

They, also, were on the same page.  They knew what my ultimate goal was and worked with me to make it happen.  When my benefits are reinstated, I'd like to pick up where we left off.  While I made amazing progress there, I still have a long road ahead of me.

But that road is much shorter than it would have been had I listened to the pain management specialist.

So take it from me.  Be choosy in who you work with, or your outcome might be very different than what you'd hoped it would be.  You must take an active role in your recovery.  If someone seems to have given  up on you, find someone who won't.