Pain Is a Bitch, and Makes Me a Bitch

tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33821576.post-65462444367040800872007-05-11T00:30:00.000-07:002007-05-11T00:56:39.177-07:00Pain Is a Bitch, and Makes Me a BitchHas anyone ever watched the TV show House? The main character, House, is a brilliant doctor who's an amazing diagnostician whose job is to diagnose baffling diseases. His co-workers value him, but their relationships are sometimes strained because House is a cranky, cynical, snarky bastard for many reasons. One of those reasons is his disability. House has severe, chronic pain because of a past disease. He walks with a cane and limps. He's also addicted to Vicodin. I can sort of relate to his character because being in horrible pain often makes me less of a nice person. I am, if not addicted to codeine, a fairly heavy user. Nowadays, I can generally vent my emotions without taking it out on the people around me. It wasn't always so. Before my first hip replacement, I spent a year of my life in agony. Walking 100 feet would make me collapse in tears. Somedays I could barely walk across my apartment. I couldn't bend over at all. Sitting hurt. Sleeping hurt. The pain would often keep me up at night, and would frequently wake me. I have repetitive stress pain in my cane arm. I could barely make simple meals, and frequently skipped showering because it hurt so damned much, even while using a shower chair. If I had to walk more than 100 ft, I had to use my scooter. Added to that, I was in a chronic flare-up because methotrexate was not keeping the disease under control. The wait list to see my rheumatologist was a year long. I actually got an emergency appointment, and the wait list was still two months. Can you believe it? In simple terms, my life was shit. I couldn't do much of anything, or go anywhere. The only activities I could do most of the time were reading and surfing the 'Net, and even those things hurt. I was never without severe pain, even while sleeping. I was in complete despair. I was waiting for a hip replacement, but I didn't know how much it would improve things, if any. I was scared that my arthritis would keep degenerating, and would get worse and worse. I contemplated suicide every day, not because I wanted to die, but because I knew I couldn't be in so much agony for the rest of my life. My life was almost worthless. The only thing that I truly enjoyed was running the local pagan student group. I can't believe I managed to do that in so much pain! Even amidst the pain, I kept up a decent social life. Having friends has often been the only thing that kept me going. Unfortunately, I wasn't always the nicest person to be around. Deep down, I resented anyone who didn't have to suffer. Friends would complain about minor illnesses like the flu, and I would hate them. I'd even tell them to shut up sometimes. If people breathed on me the wrong way, it would hurt me. Well, OK, I'm exaggerating, but if someone brushed against me lightly I would cry out. I frequently lost my temper over the smallest of things. I hardly ever smiled or laughed. I completely expected people to cater to me; I would have my friends carry my backpack or lunch. Hell, real friends would do that anyway, but oftentimes I wouldn't even ask. At least I had the grace to say thank you! I expected my girlfriend to drive me everywhere, unless I was using my scooter. The idea that healthy people wasted their energy and wasted their lives made me crazy. I would look at them and think, if I had your health, I'd do far more with my life than you. People who were capable of exercising, but wouldn't, made me crazy with rage. I passionately wished to trade bodies with them. I wanted to smack them stupid for wasting such a precious gift. I had an overweight friend with diabetes, and watched her live on junk food while sitting around. I had nothing but contempt for her, even though I knew that it can be really hard to change your lifestyle. In other words, I was kind of a bitch. Perhaps I was a lot nicer than others would be in my shoes, but I was pretty bitchy for that year. After the hip replacement, I became a much nicer person, inside and out. My moods improved with my health, and I was able to stop hating people for having health when I didn't. I still envy them like hell, but I don't get mad at them any more. I only get mad at people for wasting their health when I don't like the person, or they're blatantly harming themselves. I can have compassion for people who are sick, even when it's something minor and temporary. I'm not angry with myself for being that way. Life was incredibly painful and tough for me then. I know I handled things as well as I was able to. I am still incredibly amazed that I didn't commit suicide. If there hadn't been the hope of a hip replacement, I probably wouldn't be here today. I'm very very very very very very very very very happy things got better for me.<div class="blogger-post-footer">This is my footer.<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33821576-6546244436704080087?l=arthriticyoungthing.blogspot.com'/></div>Zephyrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13020297752831113924noreply@blogger.com6