pain

so, at the risk of jason's head exploding in surprise, here it is: a second post in as many days.

i have two herniated disks between L4 and L5 and S1. for those who would rather i write in intelligible english: i have two swollen disks of cartilage between the three lowest vertebra in my back. the first major sign of this took place last month while i was home in prague, four days before i planned to fly to lisbon, portugal, for the wedding of my co-workers and friends.

the pain started while i was already sick in bed with a cold. i sneezed three times in an awkward position and suddenly felt pain like knives stabbing me in the lower back and all the way down my left leg. i could barely find a comfortable position to lie in, never mind walk or sit. genius that i am, i thought maybe a walk would help things (because walking is for me a good preventer of back pain). i could barely change into different pants without keeling over in pain and i had to wrangle my socks on using not my hands but the toes on my other foot. should have been a sign. i got about 50 steps from my door before turning around, it was that bad.

i went to a doctor of physical therapy here in prague who made some gentle adjustments, did some glass therapy, which involves suction to promote circulation, and gave me an injection to shrink the swelling and relieve the pain. within a couple days the pain was gone, i could walk a bit more normally, and i was given the ok to fly to lisbon. while in lisbon things seemed to improve. went to the wedding, which was beautiful, gazed at the pounding waves of the atlantic ocean, and hung out in the city, enjoying the cafe culture.

then on sunday morning (flight back to prague scheduled for monday morning) while in the shower, i felt something move in my back when i twisted and bent--reaching to adjust the water temperature. i could not sit still in church that morning. the whole right side of my body from the waist down had this dull sort of pain that was only alleviated (while sitting) when i torqued my body weight completely onto my left hip with my right leg crossed over the left. the image of the pain that keeps coming into my mind is of heavy lead weights within my leg, pulling at it. that doesn't even make sense as i read it but it's what i remember.

the pain eventually got so bad sunday evening that i called my doctor in prague from my friend nelly's phone while waiting for a table at the hard rock cafe. i'd taken two swallows of darn good beer when something seemed to move again and the pain became unbearable even while standing. and now my toes were numb and tingly, too. my doctor's orders were short and sweet: get to a hospital immediately.

the details of this story could take 10 posts to tell but suffice it to say that within 10 or so days i went to 2 hospitals in lisbon and was treated in 1 emergency room, was examined 2 days later by a portuguese orthopaedic surgeon, was stuck in lisbon for 2 extra days, went to an emergency room in prague, got a CT scan, had 4 drug infusions through IV, and took more medication than i have in years. i was out of it for a while. i feel kind of bad for the people i emailed during that time. i don't know how coherent anything was, and they may not have realized that i truly was tripped out on legal drugs.

the thing that has taken adjusting to (besides becoming comfortable with stripping down to bra and underwear every time i walk into a doctor's office) is describing the pain. i never realized how difficult it can be to pinpoint pain and put it into words.

now, while a person is in pain it's usually relatively simple to describe it. dull or sharp, inside or on the surface, achy or stabbing, constant or intermittant: when you're feeling it it's not so hard to tell a doctor exactly what it's like. however, when you don't feel it all the time, and it's not as bad as the pain you were feeling two weeks ago (because what i felt then was so much worse than what i feel now, is it really pain? or just pressure? something?), it becomes much more difficult.

i've heard that our brains have convenient ways of forgetting exactly what pain feels like. once it's over we can remember that we were in pain but we can't physically relive that pain in the same way again.

about 5 years ago i had a stomach infection that lasted a month. didn't know it was a stomach infection until the end of that month. and what got me to finally see a doctor was a) a fever b) demands from my friends that i do so and c) pain so bad i was hallucinating. let me explain c. i remember lying in bed, scrunched in the fetal position. the pain wasn't constant; it came in waves. and when each wave came i saw the pain in my mind: it had colors and movement. but that's all i remember of the pain. i remember how it looked. weird.

have you ever had a cold or something where you forgot what it feels like to be healthy? as if you've never been anything but sick or never not felt the pain. it's strange to me that when we're healthy we have a hard time refeeling pain, and when we're in pain or otherwise unhealthy, we can't remember not being in that condition. are we such creatures of the present that we can only feel the physical sensations of our current condition? is it protection by the brain that keeps us from reliving the actual sensations of pain? because it seems to me that the physical sensations of pleasure or absense of pain are difficult to relive as well. (psychological and emotion memories of pain and pleasure are, conversely, rather easy to relive.)

is that what keeps people returning to the same pain or the same pleasure over and over again--the impossibility to relive the actual sensation without stimula of some kind? scientists all over the world continue to do experiments relating to pain and pleasure. honestly, i don't know what their findings are. guess i'd have to do some research on that (this is why people blog. no need for evidence). but my hunch is that people (or other animals) may learn to get around pain, but if they have to endure pain to get to pleasure or something else they want, they will take the pain every time. because the memory of it isn't quite concrete enough to keep them from trying for what they want. just a hunch.

what does this lack of sensation memory prompt in us? on some level i think it pushes us forward. were we able to relive pleasure concretely, we might not leave the house some days. were we to relive pain we likewise might stay behind locked doors. is it the hope of physical pleasure--be it a soft sweater, a juicy pear, a passionate kiss--that motivates us? is it the absence of fear of pain--be it a stubbed toe, a fresh papercut, a herniated disk--that allows us to move through the day?

and what of those who live in chronic pain? i don't think my mom has painless days anymore. i think there are terrible days, bad days, and not-so-bad days. but i don't think, pain-wise, she has good days anymore. she leads a chronic pain group. and i think it's the only place she can really talk openly about life with pain. because her family doesn't really understand what she lives with. we live mostly free from pain. she lives with occasional moments of less pain. and she probably can barely remember what life without pain felt like. (the only time we've ever bonded or really spoken as, well, peers, over pain was when i complained recently about having to describe it to my doctor after the fact and she agreed that it's difficult and annoying to try to answer a doctor's questions concerning the detailed aspects of pain. i realized as she talked that i have no concept of the kind of pain she lives with.)

the pain in my leg came back about 10 days ago and it felt like i had a muscle cramp in my calf. i could barely sleep and any comfortable position i found lost its comfort within about 5 minutes. but the pain has subsided and i'm now judging the severity of the disk problem not by how much pain i feel, but whether or not i have feeling in my foot--which has stayed numb the whole time. you'd think numbness would be preferable to pain, but in some ways it's not. i could seriously hurt my foot right now (i think i twisted my ankle pretty badly while still in lisbon) and not know it and not seek treatment for it, and suffer permanently. i wouldn't think i'd ever desire pain, but it's possible that i might choose pain over nothing at all.

coupla things

hey, i never promised anyone i'd be a good poster. i think i admit to being a lousy poster most every time i drag myself to my computer to write. and then i get reflective. i enjoy writing. it's good to get thoughts to paper or, well, screen. maybe i should hustle to get that wireless router so i can have my laptop anywhere i go in my apartment instead of just the home office that sometimes feels too office-y. regardless. here i am and i do have more to say after i watch a movie. 'the virgin suicides.'

anyway. fyi for all of you others out there whose lives were changed by eric schlosser's book 'fast food nation': mcdonald's owns mexican fast-food joint chipotle. just found that out today. we have exactly zero chipotles here in prague but i plan to keep this in mind when i'm back in the US. others of you may want to find another burrito place. hint: go somewhere not part of a chain!

the other thing of note strikes me as rather funny: the male version of the czech word for 'virgin' is 'panic.' as in the 40 let panic (40-year-old virgin). i'm used to looking at that with my czech eyes but i realized as i looked at my ticket that panic is a rather ironic word to translate into 'virgin.' commence jokes now.
funny to see two movies in two days with 'virgin' in the title. wait--what am i, 13 again?