Sometime in 2008, my back started hurting more than usual. The disk between L4 and L5 is nearly gone and I’ve had constant pain there for more than 15 years. The pain I was feeling was worse than they typical pain I had felt for so long, and it had spread though out most of my back. My shoulders and neck were also in pain. I figured the pain was due to my, then 2 year old, son getting bigger and heavier. I just figured the strain of bending over and picking him up was taking its toll. I was 38 years old, so I thought maybe this was part of getting older too.
So, I made a very difficult decision. I stopped picking my son up. It was so hard! He didn’t understand and neither did I, but I felt “broken” and was afraid I would drop him or hurt myself more. I told him that he could sit on my lap any time, but that I could not pick him up, unless absolutely necessary – like to put him in a shopping cart, or if he fell asleep in the car and I had to carry him in to the house.
For TWO YEARS I rarely picked my son up, but the pain never got better. I saw a Chiropractor. She made the pain worse. I saw a Massage Therapist. She made me feel better while I was on her table, but the pain would come back quick upon leaving. I went to a pain doctor and had steroid injections in my back. They helped my lower back for a short time, but the pain elsewhere NEVER WENT AWAY.
I often felt paralyzed with stiffness after sitting on the couch or a chair for long. I struggled to get up. And when I did get up, it took a lot of effort. I used to do what I called “the crawl”. I would scoot to the edge of the couch, use every muscle in my legs and arms to push myself up, and then (because I was bent over) would use my hands and walk/crawl them up my thighs, pushing myself upright until I was standing straight. I would have to stand upright and still for a few seconds before being able to walk.
I had to do “the crawl” every morning to get out of bed. It was a miserable experience.
If I got on the floor to play with my son, or for whatever reason, getting up was nearly impossible without crawling over to a couch/table to pull or push myself up.
I had frequent headaches. I was exhausted all the time. I had the most embarrassing GI issues: bloating, diarrhea, gas that hurt so bad I would cry. Literally cry. I had PMS that caused so much additional pain that I could hardly walk at times. I felt menstrual cramps under my ribs. I had pain in my nether regions. My eyesight would randomly get worse at times, with my glasses or contacts on. I actually could NOT SEE for nearly 2 hours one day. My hands and feet went numb frequently, and every morning when I woke up both of my hands were numb. I was often dizzy upon standing. I had trouble taking a full breath. I had occasional stabbing in my chest. My muscles would twitch randomly. My moods swung like a pendulum.
I often sobbed silently at night because I couldn’t get comfortable. My bed hurt. The blankets hurt. BLANKETS HURT.
I became so used to living with all of these issues, I had convinced myself it was normal. Just part of being “me”. I talked to my best friend about these issues and she would tell me that normal people don’t feel like that. She never had pain. I couldn’t believe there were people out there who had pain free days. Clearly she was not being truthful.
One day in 2010, while sitting on the couch, my son came over to sit on my lap to watch cartoons. His bony little knee hit my thigh and the pain sent me through the roof. I screamed. I screamed in pain and I screamed at him. I couldn’t figure out what was going on, I didn’t understand why that hurt so badly. He cried because I screamed at him. It happened again a few days later. And then again, and again. Around this same time, I noticed that when I scratched an itch…my skin hurt. My SKIN HURT.
A few months later, my right foot arch started hurting. I thought maybe I had injured it without realizing. Then I realized that I didn’t do anything to injure it. It hurt so bad I was limping. I limped for 2 ½ months.
I knew I needed to discuss these issues with my Dr. I knew these things weren’t normal. I was terrified. I thought I was dying. I didn’t want to know what was wrong. I FELT CRAZY.
During these 2 years, I kept a journal of the pain. I made a summary of these entries and then I made a Dr. appointment. When my appointment finally rolled around, I was out of my mind with fear. I thought she would tell me I was crazy. I thought she would tell me I was dying. I thought she would not understand.
I made the appointment because I had “foot pain”. While discussing the foot pain with my Dr, I started crying. No. Sobbing. She asked if the pain was that bad. I said no. I tried to tell her about the other pain. But I couldn’t talk. She sat with me. I was able to tell her that I had a list of some other things that were bothering me. She told me to relax and she would just read through the list.
She asked a few questions. I calmed down. She walked over and started pressing on various parts of my body and asking me if it hurt. Well, yes, most of the places she pressed had hurt. At that point I didn’t realize she was pressure point testing for Fibromyalgia.
She stepped back and said “Have you ever hear of Fibromyalgia”? I said, yes. She told me I exhibited many of the symptoms and I had pain in nearly all of the pressure points.
She ordered a full blood panel to rule out other conditions, and gave me a 3 week supply of Cymbalta.
I took a pill as soon as I walked out the door. I swear I felt better almost instantly. It was likely because the fear I had been carrying around for so long had finally been lifted. I wasn’t crazy after all. I wasn’t dying. And I had been diagnosed with something real. And my Dr understood, and was sympathetic.
I WASN'T CRAZY.
I WASN'T DYING.
MY DOCTOR UNDERSTOOD.
I’ve been taking Cymbalta for 8 months now. The only 'every day" pain I have is some mild lower back discomfort. The L4/L5 disc is gone, so the only way to ever have a pain free lower back is to have surgery.
My GI issues are gone! My periods come and go with little notice! I’m pretty even tempered! I’m happy! I feel good!
I pick my, now nearly 5 year old, son up and dance around the room with him! He’s heavy, but it doesn’t hurt. I can sit on the floor and play with him and then get up off the floor like a normal person would.
I did lose a lot of strength over those 2 years. Sometimes I find it unbelievable how much better I feel. I didn’t feel good for over 2 years. I didn’t think I would ever be able to say that I feel GOOD.
Family and friends have been supportive and many have said they had no idea I was suffering. I did keep it to myself for the most part. My husband knew. My best friend knew. My parents knew some of the details but not all because I didn’t want them to worry.
The only side effects I have experienced with Cymbalta are sleepiness, wild dreams and *boo* weight gain. I sleep like a log at night, am able to stay awake all day, so the sleepiness is not a bad side effect. The dreams have been disturbing at times, some would call them nightmares, but the new ME outweighs the dreams. Speaking of outweighing...my weight is out of control. I keep trying to control it, but the sleepiness leads to a lack of motivation, and I am allowing this to interfere with my efforts. I will find something that works and I will lose this weight.
I knows other sufferers have weather related pain, and I too have had a few episodes that seem to be weather related.
Our weather in Ohio has been very weird since March, and I distinctly remember my first weather related episode. March 11th at approximately 9:20am; our front desk clerk asked me to watch the front desk so she could make breakfast. As I was sitting up there, my calf (front/outer side) started hurting. No. Not hurting…STABBING. I started rubbing my leg, and the pressure from rubbing hurt like hell. She returned to the front desk and I hobbled back into my office, where I sat in so much stabbing pain I was near tears for another 15 minutes (20 all together). I continued to rub my leg. I stretched my leg. I flexed my muscles. I stood up and walked around. It HURT LIKE HELL. I was sweating and breathing heavily by the time the pain diminished.
This pain came from nowhere. Out of the blue. And hit me like a ton of bricks. It wasn’t until I read a tweet from another Spoonie who was experiencing a lot of pain that day. From the weather. I had never noticed pain as a direct result of the weather.
Is that what I experienced on March 11th? I have no idea. But it was hell. Pure hell.
I’m terrified to ever stop taking Cymbalta. For me, it has been a miracle. I have my life back. I have ME back. A larger version of me. But a relatively pain free, happier me.
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