The Worst of the Worst

I’m at the bottom.

I told myself I’d been flaring for two months. That my meds weren’t adequate, not that they ever are.

But it got worse.

My hands and arms are shaky with a tremor. I think of it as my body’s “I’ve fucking had enough and I’m shutting down” mechanism. Don’t try to apply makeup. Have fun making a sandwich. Better use those plastic plates and cups because shit’s gonna be hitting the floor, literally.

I’m in a pit.

My pulse is racing. I tell my muscles to relax, that it’s ok and I’m not dying. That contracting and tightening up will only make things worse, for the love of god.

My medications aren’t touching this.

Breathe in, breathe out.

I’m sure our flares are different but there’s probably a lot in common. I can’t fucking do shit. (Excuse my language—curse level is high today.) I’m lying in bed and hoping to die, but not really because I’m not suicidal. But I figuratively want to die. Anything to make this go away. I’d like to sleep for four days because that’s about the amount of time it will probably take this flare to calm down.

The trigger for this flare was hilarious. Didn’t see it coming from a mile away. It was a pelvic exam and Pap smear.

The root of all things malevolent in my body is my pelvis. Endometriosis, chronic pelvic pain, a slew of infertility surgeries. The final surgery that was supposed to be so trivial, so easy and painless, that left me in chronic neuropathic pain. I’ve hardly made it off the couch since then.

I’ve done two years of pelvic PT with three different pelvic specialists. They were excellent. My body’s response was not. I was dropped by my two long-terms PTs at the one-year mark for lack of response. Basically, I was hurting their numbers. When pain level one year ago equals pain level now, the therapist looks completely ineffective. I don’t blame them but their employers would.

Although the therapists didn’t help with my overall pain level, they did help with chronic pelvic floor tightness. Excuse the TMI, but their internal work, which was basically pressing on spots until the muscles relaxed (excruciating), apparently worked a little.

I haven’t had PT in several years and apparently my pelvis is a no landing zone now. I never anticipated a pelvic exam causing so much pain, and for crying out loud all I wanted was a new hormonal birth control.

The new-to-me gynecologist first had trouble finding my cervix. Let me say that again. The OB/gynecologist who has examined women’s reproductive organs for 25 years could not find the end of my vagina. There are only so many places a cervix can be, right? After a minute (felt like 10) of rooting around the doctor found my cervix facing up, or facing down—whichever is the rare variant. NB: my cervix has never hidden before. I blame fibro.

I left feeling sore but ok. 24 hours later and I can hardly move. Since my pelvis is the root of all things evil, I have pain everywhere now. I’m sure it would be similar if I broke my arm, but I think my pelvis is more capable of bringing down all body systems than the Spanish flu of 1918.

I’m at an 8 of 10, or a 7 on a more conservative pain scale. I’m capable of typing sentences. Speaking would be harder.

It’s time for more pain meds because my ability to string words together is going downhill fast. I don’t have extra meds for this. Where are the “here’s a few extra pills per month because we know there will be [literal] storms where your body acts as a weather gauge, or you will walk 20 minutes on a day you shouldn’t have and you will flare for days afterward”?

Meds that I don’t have have been taken. A future day will suffer because I won’t have enough meds. Oh, and did I say that meds aren’t touching this flare? That might be an exaggeration. I think they’re taking it from an 8 to a 7.75.

Where does this leave me for the rest of the day? It leaves me with constant worry about not having enough meds. Should I take them or shoudn’t I? Breathe. Watch TV. Read blogs. Feel guilty for not crossing off anything on to-do list. Try not to panic and try to slow down every instinct that tells me I should be in flight or fight mode.

And try to parent. Thank god my kid has school today. After school will be lots of TV and me faking it. God, that will be a post of its own.

I hope you aren’t flaring today and if you are, know that you’re in good company.

Oh yay, things just got worse here. I’m having sheetrock repaired in the room above me and it’s so loud it’s making my toes curl. Hello noise sensitivity! So glad to see you on this shitty morning.