Will

Hopefully, today is the first day of the rest of my life. No, there can be no hopefully about it. I must think positively, I must be positive. Perhaps that is half the battle.

So, today is the first day of the rest of my life; I know because I have decided that something needs to change, my life needs to change, for the better.

For six years now my life has been dominated by one thing, one measly thing that you, or I, cannot see or hear but maybe, just maybe, I can learn to control.

It is something that I can most definitely feel: pain, chronic pain; like a raw, nagging toothache that seems to have gone on forever, at times rising and clawing away at my nerves, like a sore, open and burst blister touched by sea water for the first time.

Or childbirth, maybe, for I guess that only a woman who has gone through that can appreciate that comparison and, in any case, as a man I doubt that I would get any compassion for that comparison.

Anyway, I digress.

The pain is there, always, from morning to night and even through the night too, rousing me in my sleep as I turn, groan and feel it. It is only becalmed by boringness and good behaviour, like a prisoner seeking parole; and that is a good analogy, the prisoner I feel that I am, the pain imprisoning me into this life that I am leading, barely one, just existing; and a prisoner in my own home too, or so it feels, as each trip out leads to pain, whether from walking or travelling by car, though the latter is easier than the latter.

The pain dominates my life, every second of every minute of every hour of every day.

 

I do something, almost anything, and I feel the pain rising, nagging away at me, telling me to stop or it will hurt even more. So my life is a quandary: I do nothing, I am bored; I do something, almost anything, from walking to sitting and standing to bending, I am in more pain.

I try to do less activities that hurt but do more activities that keep my mind active, or at least occupied: reading the newspaper (sent to my kindle to avoid having to go to the shop and, most definitely not one of those papers that belittle the plight of those disabled or on benefits); surfing the internet; watching sport and good TV but most definitely not mind exploding simple and mood depressingly condescending daytime TV; writing (yes, this, a blog about my pain, my life, my hope!).

No. That life is no more. I must be positive. I will do more. I will get out more. I will no longer feel like a prisoner, locked in by my wife as she goes to work each morning.

I will take on absolutely the pacing regime that the pain clinic has suggested. I will exercise through pain and tiredness and lack of motivation. I will use the prescribed relaxation and distraction techniques. I will reduce the amount of medication that I take to control the pain before it kills me slowly (as it seems to be doing). I will pace to the second, even if it kills me mentally.

I will, I will, I will!

My Story (Part 4): Somehow

 

Often I feel that it is my situation, my life, which upsets me more than the pain itself.

It is the loss of freedom that most upsets me, always having to be aware of the pain and always having to consider the effect my actions will have on it. As a consequence, I feel that I am not really living anymore; I just exist, trying to get through each day without aggravating the pain so much that I cannot do the things I have to do, or really want to do.

All the while I have this dread of the pain, knowing that the pain will come, like a spider crawling ever closer to someone who suffers from arachnophobia.

Normally, away from this blog, I do not complain about the pain, or my situation; that is just not me. As my wife would no doubt tell you, it is my stubbornness, my sheer will to not give in to things that I dislike or disagree with, like the pain, that has got me this far.

So, most of the time, I hide my pain, my feelings and my thoughts and just get on with life; at least I have until now. Somehow I have kept on going, having faith that everything will be okay. Somehow I have kept on fighting, taking one day at a time. Somehow, I have never, ever, given up. It is how I have got through the last six years. If I had not done those things, I do not know how I would have coped with what happened, or how I have continued to cope to this day.

I dream of a way out, not of the pain, but the situation. I can accept the pain now; I have come to do so, it having been with me for so long. I cannot accept the situation. I just want a normal life. I want my wife and I to have children, for us to get a dog, and lead a normal family life; and all that entails.

But...

But life for me now is a constant struggle, to fight the pain to do what I have to do let alone want to do. I do not know how we will, one day, maybe soon, have children when sometimes I can barely look after myself. I know that my wife, we and maybe I have the love for children but I do not know if we will have the resources, in any way, to do so whilst my pain continues.

I have shown that I am resilient over the last six years, but I do not know if I have the resilience to take on responsibility for others. But somehow I will. Somehow I will have the faith. Somehow I will keep fighting. Somehow I will never, ever, give up. I just do not know whether or not financially we will ever be able to do so. Somehow, that thought saddens me more than anything else.