Today I want to talk about PAIN.
Real pain, pain which debilitates to the extent where suicide becomes a real possibility.
Many many years ago I had an accident, nasty business; short fall, scaffold pole, hole in my gut and several lower bones in my spine fractured and chipped. I had to give up working as a Mason which was a shame as I always enjoyed manual work; I was very strong and I enjoyed physical exertion; used to love those silly games we played on building sites; lifting bags of cement and lintels overhead or seeing how many bricks you can stack in a hod and carry up a ladder. But then I became a teacher, a writer and now a psychotherapist… and each of these I enjoy to so I’m not complaining overmuch.
Over the years I’ve been in-and-out of hospitals getting physiotherapy and traction and manipulation but the pain never leaves. I repeat that; the pain NEVER leaves. Sometimes it is bearable and sometimes I even forget about it for brief periods but even then it is sitting silently waiting to interrupt pleasure.
What’s this pain like then? Well, last night it was about as bad as it gets; it was like someone taking a long, slender, razor-sharp filleting knife and inserting it slowly into my lower back; then, when the knife is wedged between bones, deep in the cartilage, it is twisted and vibrated until the pain fills all of my spine right up to my neck then down my right arm and both legs. The legs become numb and it’s difficult to walk so I strap on a heavy weight-lifter’s belt and can then at least climb the stairs to lie on the floor by my bed. It’s fatal to get into the bed; if I did that then experience tells me that I’d be there for days and that can be painful and embarrassing; use your imagination…
About 12 years ago I was told by an orthopaedic specialist that in five years I’d be in a wheel chair; but I aint, and I never will be. The pain-unit at Walton Pain Centre was brilliant; they told me to ignore all past advice to rest when the pain descended and instead to exercise. They explained that as my bones weren’t strong enough to carry my weight (and I’m a big lad; 6’ 5” tall and over 220lbs) I had to develop extra strong lower-back muscles. I remember the first day I hobbled in there; the physiotherapist who greeted me took my walking-crutches away and said; ‘You won’t need them, not ever, they will keep you crippled…’ Then she made me exercise and exercise and exercise. Almost all day now I am exercising; if I’m sitting talking to you (or more likely standing talking to you) I’m flexing my lower spine and my buttocks continuously (The ladies say that’s why I have a very nice bum ha ha ha) But there is a downside to all this exercising and walking and keeping on my feet as much as possible and that is that I get exhausted. Last night the pain returned with a vengeance when I was very tired and I just couldn’t muster the energy to get up and walk. Instead I sat on the settee exhausted and in debilitating pain, I guess that sheer will-power eventually got me on my feet again and allowed me to hobble to the door and walk the midnight streets of Liverpool for an hour. Fear walks with me too; because I sometimes fear that my will-power will give out and what then? It doesn’t bear thinking about…
This may sound like an enormous whinge but what the hell, few people read this blog anyway and I write in here for ME anyway not for anyone else. Last night was the worst it has been for quite some time but my back didn’t lock (When it locks it’s an ambulance and into hospital which I dread)… as I sat there I tried to analyse just what the pain felt like and that’s when I imagined that filleting knife doing its business. And now, as I sit upright in a firm chair typing this, the pain has reduced to a sort of stiffness which locks my shoulders and neck and leaves my legs numb; I am sure I’ll be OK after I’ve gone for a walk in an hour or so… but then I have that fucking knee injury which stops me walking as far and as fast as I need to; ha ha ha; I’m falling apart! HELP!
It feels better to have written it down but I know I haven’t got it right; I may be a writer but the description of the pain doesn’t adequately explain the accompanying fear, despair and hey; I just got it: the LONLINESS. That’s it! YES! Because I look OK no one realises how much pain I’m in almost continuously and so I guess I am isolated; locked in a world occupied by me and that despicable, torturous pain... my pain makes me lonely! YES; writing really is therapeutic for this human-being; I’ve identified what I hadn’t realised and that can’t be at all bad. Thank you sisters for teaching me to read and write, moving your fingers along the words in those tattered comics, newspapers and books all those years ago has helped me NOW to understand myself better.
Today is May Day; a day set aside to celebrate The Workers. I was a manual worker and I enjoyed that and I miss being able to lift heavy weights, miss most of all not being able to lift the woman I love into the air and swing her around even though she’s a wee mite :-) But hey I have SO much; my brain is fine and fertile, I eat good food, the sun is shining and I’m of the opinion that I’ll still be going strong (relatively) in thirty or forty years time and who knows, maybe a miracle will happen some day and I’ll wake up pain-free but until then I’ll keep fighting it; there’s only one alternative and I enjoy my life too much to contemplate that.
Happy May Day everyone!!!
Real pain, pain which debilitates to the extent where suicide becomes a real possibility.
Many many years ago I had an accident, nasty business; short fall, scaffold pole, hole in my gut and several lower bones in my spine fractured and chipped. I had to give up working as a Mason which was a shame as I always enjoyed manual work; I was very strong and I enjoyed physical exertion; used to love those silly games we played on building sites; lifting bags of cement and lintels overhead or seeing how many bricks you can stack in a hod and carry up a ladder. But then I became a teacher, a writer and now a psychotherapist… and each of these I enjoy to so I’m not complaining overmuch.
Over the years I’ve been in-and-out of hospitals getting physiotherapy and traction and manipulation but the pain never leaves. I repeat that; the pain NEVER leaves. Sometimes it is bearable and sometimes I even forget about it for brief periods but even then it is sitting silently waiting to interrupt pleasure.
What’s this pain like then? Well, last night it was about as bad as it gets; it was like someone taking a long, slender, razor-sharp filleting knife and inserting it slowly into my lower back; then, when the knife is wedged between bones, deep in the cartilage, it is twisted and vibrated until the pain fills all of my spine right up to my neck then down my right arm and both legs. The legs become numb and it’s difficult to walk so I strap on a heavy weight-lifter’s belt and can then at least climb the stairs to lie on the floor by my bed. It’s fatal to get into the bed; if I did that then experience tells me that I’d be there for days and that can be painful and embarrassing; use your imagination…
About 12 years ago I was told by an orthopaedic specialist that in five years I’d be in a wheel chair; but I aint, and I never will be. The pain-unit at Walton Pain Centre was brilliant; they told me to ignore all past advice to rest when the pain descended and instead to exercise. They explained that as my bones weren’t strong enough to carry my weight (and I’m a big lad; 6’ 5” tall and over 220lbs) I had to develop extra strong lower-back muscles. I remember the first day I hobbled in there; the physiotherapist who greeted me took my walking-crutches away and said; ‘You won’t need them, not ever, they will keep you crippled…’ Then she made me exercise and exercise and exercise. Almost all day now I am exercising; if I’m sitting talking to you (or more likely standing talking to you) I’m flexing my lower spine and my buttocks continuously (The ladies say that’s why I have a very nice bum ha ha ha) But there is a downside to all this exercising and walking and keeping on my feet as much as possible and that is that I get exhausted. Last night the pain returned with a vengeance when I was very tired and I just couldn’t muster the energy to get up and walk. Instead I sat on the settee exhausted and in debilitating pain, I guess that sheer will-power eventually got me on my feet again and allowed me to hobble to the door and walk the midnight streets of Liverpool for an hour. Fear walks with me too; because I sometimes fear that my will-power will give out and what then? It doesn’t bear thinking about…
This may sound like an enormous whinge but what the hell, few people read this blog anyway and I write in here for ME anyway not for anyone else. Last night was the worst it has been for quite some time but my back didn’t lock (When it locks it’s an ambulance and into hospital which I dread)… as I sat there I tried to analyse just what the pain felt like and that’s when I imagined that filleting knife doing its business. And now, as I sit upright in a firm chair typing this, the pain has reduced to a sort of stiffness which locks my shoulders and neck and leaves my legs numb; I am sure I’ll be OK after I’ve gone for a walk in an hour or so… but then I have that fucking knee injury which stops me walking as far and as fast as I need to; ha ha ha; I’m falling apart! HELP!
It feels better to have written it down but I know I haven’t got it right; I may be a writer but the description of the pain doesn’t adequately explain the accompanying fear, despair and hey; I just got it: the LONLINESS. That’s it! YES! Because I look OK no one realises how much pain I’m in almost continuously and so I guess I am isolated; locked in a world occupied by me and that despicable, torturous pain... my pain makes me lonely! YES; writing really is therapeutic for this human-being; I’ve identified what I hadn’t realised and that can’t be at all bad. Thank you sisters for teaching me to read and write, moving your fingers along the words in those tattered comics, newspapers and books all those years ago has helped me NOW to understand myself better.
Today is May Day; a day set aside to celebrate The Workers. I was a manual worker and I enjoyed that and I miss being able to lift heavy weights, miss most of all not being able to lift the woman I love into the air and swing her around even though she’s a wee mite :-) But hey I have SO much; my brain is fine and fertile, I eat good food, the sun is shining and I’m of the opinion that I’ll still be going strong (relatively) in thirty or forty years time and who knows, maybe a miracle will happen some day and I’ll wake up pain-free but until then I’ll keep fighting it; there’s only one alternative and I enjoy my life too much to contemplate that.
Happy May Day everyone!!!
posted by Alan Corkish @ 12:52 AM
3 Comments:
At 7:22 PM,
Crazy Cat Lady . . . said…
I'm reading, and I listen. You've read my blog about my ill-fated attempt to treat back pain with pain killers. Ah, "Treatment" --- you've published it! Stupid physiatrist. Now I'm having fantastic luck with physical therapy to increase core muscle strength. I admire your courage, dear friend. Within pain one can find great poetry. But one can find great poetry without it, too. Hang in there.
At 2:28 PM,
B. Rasse said…
I can't speak english, but I can read your text and is very true, sad but true.
Good day :)
At 3:53 AM,
Myna said…
From Christine/Miadora50
I've only just read this. Would you allow me to help? If yes, send me an email, Alan.
Post a Comment
<< Home