What I wish I could tell my neurologist tomorrow…

I’m not good at expressing myself to people in person, I’m never able to say what I want to or need to. I’m much better at writing it down, what I want to say and how I feel. I’m seeing my neurologist tomorrow and this is what I wish I was able to tell him…

I don’t want you to think I haven’t given this enough of a chance or that I haven’t tried hard enough with it. I wasn’t expecting any sort of relief yet when I only had surgery 7 months ago, but I’m so much worse it’s unbearable and I know it should not be this way. I can feel that my pain/head/brain does not like what is happening to it when the stimulator is on, I can feel it and it’s even more agony than I’ve been use to for the past 7 years. And if that wasn’t bad enough an extra headache has been created at the back of my head, which was never there before and I don’t understand what has happened for it to be there, but it’s really very painful and I just wish it would go away. I wish I never had the surgery,  I wish I had listened to the people who said not to go through with it. However I’m the type of person who will try anything within reason if there is the slightest possibility it could result in some relief, and I know if I had not gone through with it I would always be wondering if this could have been my answer.
I don’t often complain to you Manjit, I don’t often complain to anyone, I usually hide my pain with a brave face, a fake smile, a laugh or a sarcastic comment, mainly because I don’t want anyone to see just how badly I feel and just how much pain I’m actually in. But this is me complaining, when the stimulator is on it causes me so much agony it’s becoming unbearable. And I’ll be completely honest, I don’t want you to turn it back on and reprogram me which will probably send me back into even more agony, I want you to keep it turned off and then swiftly arrange for removal. I’m in agony and I don’t know what more to ask for other than this and hope that I can return to what it was like before surgery, which was also agony but it wasn’t quite as bad as this. I know you’ve tried so hard to help me and I appreciate everything you have done to try and help me over the past 6 years I have known you, I appreciate it more than you know, you were the only neurologist I have ever seen that didn’t dismiss my pain, that listened to me, that cared enough to want to help and for that I will always be grateful. But I’m not sure I can keep going with this stimulator and how much extra pain it is causing me, I’m completely fed up and done with it and I honestly don’t believe that reprogramming it any different is going to change the extra pain it causes me when it’s on, I know my pain better than anyone, I know what it does not like and it does not like this, I wish so badly it did and I wish this could have been my answer for some relief, but I really don’t think it is.

I know everyone was worried about what would happen to me if surgery turned out not to help and where I would be mentally if that was the case. I wish I could tell you I was okay, or that I will be okay. But the truth is I’m not okay, I’m so very far from okay, I’m completely heartbroken and devastated about this and completely unsure of how I’m even going to be able to move forward from here, of how I’m going to cope with the rest of my life with this pain. I’m probably in one of the worst states I’ve been in and I’m probably beyond anyones help anymore. I’m 23 years old it’s been over 7 years since this started and I have no clue how on earth I’m going to survive the rest of my life with this pain, I don’t know how to deal with the fact I will probably never have any sort of relief, that all hope for that is gone. And I feel that if all I’m ever going to be is sick and in pain, then what really is the point anymore? 

I know I won’t be able to say this to you tomorrow, I’m not even sure I have the courage to show you this post, but maybe I will surprise myself.

 

Heartbroken.

I’ve been a bit quiet on here again recently, writers block would be the wrong word. It’s more like I’m actually really struggling and I haven’t been sure how to express it to anyone, even on here.

My pain levels are still worse since my stimulator was turned on a few weeks ago, my 2nd extra headache is still raging and I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I really don’t think my brain likes what is happening to it. I feel completely and utterly devastated and I really do not know what to do anymore. I was hesitant to call my neurologists team because I didn’t want them to think that I haven’t tried hard enough, that I’m just giving up. When really I’m in agony, I obviously wanted this to help more than anyone and I’m heartbroken that it has been a complete disaster and I’m worried I am now going to be stuck worse. I did however call my team and spoke to one of my nurses, telling her it was worse again and how I wished they would take the stimulator out. She asked if I had told my neuro that and I said not yet but I would be telling him when I see him in 2 weeks time. She said she would talk to him this week and said she would call me with what he says, so hopefully I will hear something tomorrow.

I’m really struggling with the failure of this treatment which was a last resort and the complete and utter heartbreak it is causing me. The overwhelming fear of spending the rest of my life in agony, the sadness I feel that I will never be able to move forward with my life, that all I will ever be is sick and in pain. And I honestly don’t know how to let myself feel the grief that I know is there.

I’m really at a loss of what to do and how I could even hope to move forward from here because I really don’t think it’s possible.

The art of looking OK.

I’ve been in pain for over 7 years, but if you didn’t already know you probably wouldn’t be able to tell. It’s taken me a long time to perfect the art of looking okay even when I’m in agony. But now the majority of the time I look relatively normal but nobody see’s what I look like when the pain is at it’s absolute worst, because I stay at home and in bed.

My pain levels are always on the high side, but I am able to mostly function a portion of the time. Over the years I’ve learnt to deal with the pain better, but I’ve also learnt to hide the look of pain in my face and hide how I feel from the world. When my headache first started I had no idea how to deal with it and I was unable to hide the pain and how depressed and angry I felt, and it drove everybody away other than my family and Jo. I’m not saying that nobody in my life these days knows about my headache; they all do and I’m completely fine with that and telling them updates on my stimulator and medical issues. But when I’m with people they have no clue the extent of how actually I feel like my head is about to explode or that someone has stabbed me multiple times in the head. I hide my depression and just how badly I feel about the fact that I’m going to be in pain for the rest of my life, how surgery was my last attempt at a life with less pain and it’s been a complete and utter disaster that has only made me worse. I hide just how completely devastated I feel about that right now, and I don’t necessarily want to talk about it with anyone because I honestly don’t know what to say and I don’t want to see the disappointment in everyone else’s eyes, because they were all rooting for this to be my answer too. My body has let me down, it has let everyone down.

Everything I do is clouded by the pain – I go to training (my best relief and coping mechanism) and hang out with some of the most amazing people afterwards having a laugh and a joke which is hilarious and always makes my day and slightly distracts me from my pain and the thoughts in my head. The pain is not great whilst I’m there but I get home only to be engulfed by agony. And how my life is right now is really all I can manage, I wish so badly I could manage more and it breaks my heart every day that this is all I will ever be and I’m really not sure I will ever come to terms with that.

I’m really struggling at the minute, I’ve got some aspects of my life that keep me going, my training and the people there, they don’t know it but they keep me alive and make me laugh and smile a million times more than I use to. But theres a hole in my heart that the pain has created and a deep rooted depression that I hide so well but will probably never recover from.