Um….no. Just no.
I’ve been ruminating on the human capacity to deal with, and adjust to, pain. It has become my everyday, my ‘normal’ (oh what a word!) for something to be aching above a 5/10 pain level. It’s also become my normal to label this as ‘fine’. The surgery that saved my leg when I was diagnosed with bone cancer 4 years ago was beyond amazing, beyond the comprehension of my tiny mammal mind, but gee whiz, it ain’t half caused so many knock on problems (disclaimer; I am in no way ungrateful, merely trying this whole ‘not-bottling-things-up’ thing, which yes, heaven forfend may include some complaining).
Getting up after having been sat down for more than 10 minutes means my whole right hand side from the waist down has forgotten what to do. My hip locks up and my hamstrings feel like what I can only describe as ‘jangly’ which makes me feel a bit sick every time think of it. Cue highly amusing stretching, grunting and swearing under my breath, much to the mirth of my dear colleagues, a little more traumatic when I’m on public transport (if I ever a get seat, but that’s a moan for another day!).
Random, out of the blue muscle spasms mid stride whilst walking down the street (today’s prompted a homeless guy to yell ‘WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOUR LEG?!’) and I had to stifle unkind thoughts of setting him alight. Again, lucky I have a sense of humour and a gradually decreasing care for what I look like in public (pros of hitting 30).
Blinding, white-hot lower back pain that comes in searing waves that make me do that funny half laughing/half crying thing whilst screeching ‘IT’S FINE HA HA DON’T WORRY I DON’T NEED A PARACETAMOL’. But an epidural might be nice….
Too much exercise/activity = pain
Not enough exercise/activity = pain
Thinking about every single footstep I make because a rolled ankle means more than just a rolled ankle, it means the kind of pain that yes, makes me feel a bit sick every time I think of it. And going face first into the kerb.
Weirdo, prickly, electric nerve pain out of absolutely nowhere that almost feels like someone has shoved frayed electrical wires under your skin. And makes me shout at my own leg like aforementioned homeless guy.
But despite this myriad of twinges and twangs, stabs and sobs, my body soldiers on. It gets up every morning, it goes to the gym, it dances like a loon at weddings, it takes me here, there and everywhere! So I should probably give it (and myself) a break sometimes, which to be frank, is a lot harder than it seems. I think perhaps people who have had such crappy things (polite way of saying it) happen to them, can sometimes desperately want to get back to some semblance of normality, even if it’s just on a subconscious level. Pushing through the pain has become my default because I know I’m going to live with some kind of pain for the rest of my life and I don’t want to let it stop me. I need to learn to actually LISTEN when my body is fairly obviously telling me to STOP WOMAN, BLOODY STOP, YOU’RE WALKING LIKE QUASIMODO.
So some new, kinder techniques for survival are going to have to be investigated. Especially as there’s a whole host of pain related funsies on the horizon.
*anything to do with bubble baths/Lush products/eating entire wheels of cheese warmly welcomed.