Chronic pain sucks. When pain is constant and inescapable, it preys on your mind, makes it hard to do anything, and contributes to depression. I’ve only had a couple of brushes with chronic pain, but they’ve been no fun.
My first serious experience with chronic pain was after I returned from Brazil and strained a rotator cuff in my shoulder. I think it was from pulling a rolling suitcase over rough pavement during a week in Brazil and a weekend in New York. It hurt all the time: no matter what I did it hurt. I found myself straining the shoulder worse trying to find a position where it didn’t hurt, which only made it worse. I got a shot of cortisone, which was totally ineffective (steroids don’t seem to have much effect on me). But I also got a prescription for Vicodin.
The Vicodin was amazing. About twenty minutes after I took it, the pain went away. The euphoria of not being in pain almost made me giddy, but I seemed otherwise completely unaffected and went into work every day like usual. After about six weeks, the shoulder had healed and I quit taking the Vicodin. Then I discovered that I had accomplished essentially nothing in the six weeks. I was “working”, but not actually getting my work done.
Nine years ago, I fell on the ice and injured my knee. It didn’t seem bad enough to require medical attention at the time, but it was never really the same after. I adjusted by taking steps one a time, especially going down. And I now generally use a “mobility aid” — a walking stick that gives me some additional stability.
Most of the time, it’s OK, but every so often, it acts up. It’s been acting up for the past week or two. It aches and is painful at random times. It makes it hard to sleep. Ibuprofen has generally been enough, but I don’t like taking it if I don’t have to.
There may be some kind of trigger, but thus far I’ve been unable to identify what it specifically is. I’m paying attention to how I stand up and do various ordinary activities. I’ve discovered that coping strategies like this can be very helpful to avoid exacerbating problems. I used to kind of throw myself out of bed but when I reached a certain age, I discovered that this was a great way to strain my back. So now I carefully swing my feet over the side of the bed and push myself up sideways. The same with getting out of the car or standing up from a chair.
I remember Philip used to joke that when you hit 30, it was like the warranty ran out. But at 60, you start to run up against the service life of your body’s components. But, like Indiana Jones said, “It’s not the years, honey. It’s the mileage.”
