I'd like to interrupt my tales about PTSD, Anxiety, and Depression just this once and instead give an update on the path to meeting with a neurosurgeon to see if I am a viable candidate for this spinal implant surgery that could effectively relieve my nerve pain. I met with the pain management psychologist--with an open mind, as I promised to do--but it turned out to be (sadly) exactly what I figured it would be. Definitely a waste of money, yet I have to be fair and say the time wasn't a total waste. Yes, she asked me everything there is to know about my past (as if my distant past psychological state is even relevant to my goal) and then she explained what she does. When she was done interviewing me about my past and current whatever, I asked my mom to join me to listen to what she had to say about what she does.
I am not going to give you a play by play recap of the conversation, but there was something extremely important that I learned from her when we questioned her about some things. The most important information I received from her is that I should not expect to not feel anything with the implant device. Instead I will still feel something; it will just be different. And in fact, she currently works with several people who have had this surgery and need help managing their pain.
I think I had a minor stroke, I was so shocked. This was the first time anyone out of all the medical professionals I had seen had told me this. And frankly, that's a big deal. Here I am expecting to have my pain managed by this implant (based on what I have been told by several neurologists and pain management clinic doctors) when in fact, it's just going to be a different sensation that I may (or may not) have to figure out how to deal with. I was flabbergasted trying to process all of this. I didn't want to have to learn to deal with a new kind of sensation! Sometimes the devil you know is better than the one you don't, and in this case, that was exactly what I was thinking. Not to mention that I will also have this implant with a battery pack in my back that (according to her and another source I know in the medical field) many people cannot tolerate.
So I took that information and researched it, finding several cases that supported what this woman had told me, and I took a while to think about all of it. I mean, the most important thing is my ultimate goal: to stop feeling this pain or at least be able to live my life with it instead of it ruling the way I live. And this goal certainly does not include exchanging the pain I deal with now for something different that I will have to get used to--essentially repeating the process of what I have already accomplished in some small part. I mean, after all I have been through these last (almost) 7 years, in particular learning how to deal with these shocks that I receive randomly yet fairly consistently every day, the thought of doing this all over again was not something I wanted to even consider. All this time of learning how to suck up the pain and learning not to show people that I am hurting taught me an important thing in the context of this new information: I now definitively understood that this convoluted process I have been following is not in line with my ultimate goal. So on Thursday I decided to discontinue my journey to pursue this implant. Maybe in a decade the technology will be there, and maybe then I'll look into it again; but for now, nope.
So what did this leave me with for options? Not many that I haven't already tried to be honest. Well, all except one which I am going to pursue actively now. A new path and a difficult one indeed, but one that I think will be the best for me. When I wrote in my last post how much showering hurt, I remembered something else. I remembered that EVERYTHING I did (including just laying in bed or changing my socks) hurt like 25 times more than it does today...even on my current really bad days. What I gleaned from this revelation were two things: 1) The pain has lessened either because of physiological reasons or, more plausibly, that I had learned over the years to suck it up, and 2) because I can remember the difference, I see no reason why I can't simply push myself to continue learning to suck it up when it happens. If any continued lessening of the pain also has to do with physiology, that's awesome. But for now, it's time to get busy living a life while I have this pain.
There's no way that this new path is going to be easy. It's going to hurt, maybe/probably for the rest of my life, and somehow I am going to have to find ways to get through it. Yet, the coolest part of all this is that I believe I can do this. I really and truly believe it. That's something I never really felt when it came to the prospect of having that implant. Faith that it would work, I mean. However, I do find that I have faith in this pathway where I am in charge of how I react to moments of pain and not allowing them to rule my life anymore. The short of it is that it's just going to take time and practice.
And the most interesting thing about all of this is that this idea is a true example of believing in myself. Something that in my old life was completely natural for me, but through this horrific experience over the last (almost) 7 years has become a stranger in my typical way of thinking for several years now. I guess I am saying that I think a part of the old me is slowly returning: the part where I believe in myself...where I know that I can do anything I set my mind to. And that's a tremendous breakthrough, especially if one considers the roller coaster of emotional and physical states I have been going through.
I daresay that (today at least) I am looking forward to a positive outcome. I can hardly believe it myself, but I, for the first time in a long, long time, am feeling hopeful. I can't tell you how suddenly light the burdens of these last (almost) 7 years feel now that I have reached a point of true hope. I am again flabbergasted, but with a smile on my face this time.
Stay tuned, and as always, thanks for reading.
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