So . . . I live with it. I scream at it. I have conversations with it. Sometimes I say "No, you are not going to distract me right now." Sometimes I'm successful. Sometimes it wins. We've come to a mutual level of respect where I recognize it's existence and it leaves me alone as long as I don't forget to take my medication and go to my yoga class once per week. My heating pad is a constant companion . . . and it's actually nice to be able to get warm in the cold winters of northeastern US.
Pain is familiar. It's scary to realize that fact. Pain has become this thing that is always there under the surface. I've developed empathy for people with pain far worse than mine . . . like burn victims or people with amputated limbs. I can't imagine living in a state of crazy uncontrolled pain. I was raised to just suck it up and deal with it. You know the 1970's parenting adage: stop being a crybaby. I'll never say that to my kids. Never. I want them to speak up and become good advocates for themselves rather than choke back the tears.
My wonderfully caring rheumatologist shared some statistics with me this week--there is a law that requires emergency room doctors to treat reported patient pain, whether or not they are exhibiting drug seeking behavior. Conversely, medical insurance doesn't want doctors to prescribe pain meds. So most doctors don't treat pain. My doctor shared that our pain receptors in our brain will cause more generalized chronic pain if localized acute pain isn't treated. A one-time treatment of acute pain could result in the avoidance of developing chronic pain . . . and save huge amounts of healthcare dollars. Only in America would insurance companies and Congress do something that makes no sense and that costs a lot of money. In the county in which I live, only two pain management doctors will prescribe medication to treat pain. Doctors, usually seen as being compassionate people, are now forced to say "suck it up and deal, no crybabies".
No wonder Americans are hurting!
