Pain Cocoon

I really, really find talking about my pain out loud distasteful. I've talked about how judged and defeated it makes me feel to discuss it. The truth is I don't want to admit to it out loud because I don't want it to have any more power over my life than it already does.

Beyond having good days and bad days there's a fear and denial factor to pain. Yesterday, was an incredibly bad day. I woke up feeling normal, but by the time Riley was dressed I was realizing that my hip was in bad shape. I couldn't put any weight on my left leg at all.

To someone who's trying desperately trying to put off replacing her hip this was terrifying. So scary that I admitted my pain and fear out loud. It was so scary it triggered my fight or flight response. Three guesses what sensible little me decided...FIGHT!

I insisted on taking Riley to Mother Goose story time at the library. I was pushing myself in an unreasonable way, but I don't take chances with Riley. I called my mom for back up. Even with help, using the wheelchair it was clear my condition was deteriorating.

Up until now I was holding off on letting the Ortho know my hip pain was worse. I needed to work out some insurance issues and was hoping things would be better for me, medical coverage-wise, by summer. That was my rational adult reason, but I had a much more emotional reason too. Denial and fear. I'm sick of the Orthopedist’s office. I don't want more X-rays, MRIs, waiting, hurting, bad news and pills. I want to "be ok" a few months before the devastating cycle of surgery and recovery starts again.

I need time, but apparently it's run out. I realize it could be much worse, but it's bad enough. I called the Ortho on the way to the library and made an appointment for next week. Shit. Shit. Shit. Reality. On top of facing hip replacement talk it opens the door to the other medical issue I've been putting off.

Around the time the Ortho told me "we'll hold off on replacing your hip until the end of the year" another specialists told me I was clear of another scary issue. Now a few moths have passed and both of those situations have changed. The last thing I want is all my fears confirmed at once.

My psyche is fractured with stress and worry as it is. My relationship is breaking. My kids are confused and my body is falling apart. "At least nothing's for sure," I kept telling myself. Now it will be. Nowhere to hide now.

So, I cope with the stress my way. I took Riley to the library and then the consignment store for new play shoes. I put her down for a nap and crawled around wincing and sobbing picking up the living room floor.

After she woke up I decided I had to lay down. Mike was having a tough work day so he was a little anxious about me taking to bed at homework time when he was so busy. Instead of staying in bed for a few hours or sleeping I watched 2 Dora the Explorer holiday specials (Christmas and Valentines Day) with Riley and got up to help Mike.

I propped myself up on some pillows and ran the homework process from the couch. I instructed Mike on who needed to be fed what and when. I even decided to give Riley a bath in a "well it can't get much worse" moment. The universe commented on this when I fell from the toilet into the tub while running the bath water.

Mike pulled me out and I stubbornly finished the bathing process even though the pain had jumped up a few notches after the fall. When Riley was bathed I sent her to her room with daddy. He read to her and put her to bed and disappeared to make a phone call. I went back to my couch perch to supervise Isaac's bedtime routine while Riley cried in objection to Mommy's absence from the bedtime routine. I was counting the seconds.

Right about the time Isaac got in the shower Riley's crying reached fever pitch and even though moving sounded like a terrible idea I had to do something. I took a long deep breath and willed myself up off the couch. I pulled the baby gate out of the doorway cursing quietly under my breath and fell purposefully toward Riley's bed. I called her to bring her book.

She obliged and we read I Love You Stinky Face for the millionth time and than the millionth and one time. She settled down to sleep after that. I some how managed to get out of the bed and the room before I stood weeping in the hallway for help.

I got into bed, got medicated and watched a little TV before I passed out. I had dreams about walking around with shards of glass in my back and hips and being electrocuted.

Days like these it feels like the intensity of the pain wraps me inside a film and the whole world is fuzzy and irritating from inside. The pain cocoon is dangerous. Most people think the pain medicine haze is the lesser of two evils, but I wish that both of them would take a hike. The pain is always worse than I say it is. I'm tired of this. I want to function again. That's why all this started after all. How much longer?