Living With Pain Vs. Pain For The First Time.

Wisdom tooth1 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My 19-year-old daughter had her lower two wisdom teeth removed this morning. They gave her a little laughing gas while we kept her company until her surgeon appeared (20 minutes later) and then he turned on the laughing gas way up high. After, he sedated her so she fell asleep and when she awakened she was the most giggly girl I have seen since she was about five. It was delightful to see a glimpse of my grown-up daughter back in time when her defenses hadn’t evolved, her moods were just plain happiness and silliness and she looked at her brother and me lovingly.

Back at home she is still high as a kite but experiences no pain, she refuses to even try to go to sleep even though as her mom, I see she her blue eyes are closing and that she is so tired.  Being her mom I was a nervous wreck last night and I told my son sleepily when he came to wake me up: “they should give anxiety sedation to the moms, not to the teenagers.” Anyone reading this that’s a mom will know exactly what I’m talking about, right?

Having Fibromyalgia, I know what Pain feels like but I’ve known it many times. I’ve had the “dreaded” Eppiglottitis two or three times that is more painful than childbirth and I dread it constantly. Childbirth is no picnic but that’s a different pain. At the end you know that you will get a reward: your new baby so it doesn’t really count as much and it’s a pain you mostly forget. Notice I said mostly. I’ve had broken ankles and broken wrists, I’ve had my tonsils out and my gallbladder removed so I have known pain pretty much early on and often.

I had fallen asleep on my bed for a few minutes today when my daughter woke me up her painful grunts and her cranky face. “It hurts” she whined and I knew that it must. She hadn’t slept and the sedation had all but left her body and she hurt. I brought her back to her bed, removed the cotton from her mouth, got her some raspberry yogurt as requested because she was “hungry” and afterwards helped her to swallow a pain medication that her doctor prescribed.

By the time the medication worked (a good 25 minutes) she moaned and groaned and complained about the pain. I felt the pain as much as she did if not more. Parents, you know… Then I realized something and I asked her “Is this the first time you’ve ever felt pain?” She said yes, quite honestly. The scowl etched on her face forming deep, unhappy lines. I thought to myself, “oh my God, maybe she will have more understanding about what I go through with Fibromyalgia, intense pain, most of the time.”

It seemed like I had always known pain but when I thought back I hadn’t known it until I was a young teenager and tripped over myself in my parent’s living room, causing my ankle to swell up to a deep purple ball and going for an X-ray for confirmation that yes, indeed it was broken. My first cast of many, I was 15, I remember and I was in high school.

It’s not likely that my daughter will be more sympathetic to my pain or even understand it, kids forget things so quickly but at least I know, that she’s never had a frame of reference. Maybe now she will.

Clown Underpants

Hospital Bed (Photo credit: Indiana Public Media)

Last week, when the nurse in the hospital gave me a warmed blue blanket I thought she was an angel from heaven. I had already been waiting three hours for my 15 minute procedure in the outpatient unit in our local hospital. I was there for a Cystoscopy, having a camera, pretty much shoved up your bladder and beyond. I had already been given 10mg of Valium orally; (why do they tell you, you aren’t supposed to take a sip of water or anything at home when they offer you these drugs with water in the hospital like candy at a Halloween party?)

The nurse did get permission from the arrogant anesthesiologist who took my disclaimer of incredibly painful TMJ, another side effect from Fibromyalgia, with a shrug of his shoulders and a basic “not my problem” attitude. Kudos to my doctor who apparently switched anesthesiologist so a lovely Doctor replaced him and she used a different drug and didn’t have to wire my jaw open wide, thank you! You were kind, gentle and I remember your sweet, assuring smile that I would be dopey and sleepy in about……..and that was it.

Next thing I knew I was in some hall with my name being called way too loudly. “Laurie, Laurie” are you awake, wake up!” the nurses shouted and I had no idea where I was or even who I was. After saying “Where am I?” not at all original, I remember I uttered my husband’s name and someone went to get him. Apparently the procedure was over and I was in the hallway.  The same nurse brought me huge, mesh “clown” underpants which, I found hysterical. Let’s just blame it on the drugs. (but really they were SO funny!) I wish I hadn’t thrown them away!

Oh, those memories just come flooding back, pun intended. No one told me or prepared me that after a cystoscopy I would get cramping and pain and bleeding and would need the same supplies I needed when I still had my cycle; that pain was familiar. It’s funny how when we try to recreate happiness it’s hard to do but pain? We remember it vividly.

I wasn’t hungry anymore or thirsty, I was just tired and the only thing that interested me was a cup of coffee.  My pounding head felt as if a boomerang was bouncing between each lobe of my brain, what’s left of it that is. With Fibromyalgia comes “Fibro Fog” I don’t need to define if for those of you who have it, but for others who don’t know what it is: it’s an extended brain freeze. It bothers us much more than you, even if you have to hear repeated stories. It makes us feel stupid, old, daft and like we have dementia. We forget what we have done five minutes ago, it’s sad. Forgive us and try to be kind.

Finally home, I crawled into our bed, Lexi, my dog, climbing on and lying across my feet, her way to say she cares, not leaving my side. She licked each finger, I stroked her fur. Grateful to be home, to be in bed, I thanked my guardian angels for keeping me safe, I held one silver guardian angel key chain in my hand. Most of all, I told my husband how much I love him and how grateful I am for all that he does for me and to the nurse that brought me the warm blue blanket: thank you, it’s the little things that make all the difference. I appreciate all of my friends, especially, my on-line friends who support me and care for me without ever meeting me. You mean the world to me too!