As many of you already know, I have been seeing a physical therapist for chronic pelvic pain. I had my bi-weekly appointment with my therapist yesterday and I’ve got to say I left there feeling a bit disheartened and disappointed. I was originally supposed to have physical therapy for only two months so that my doctor can decide whether or not a hysterectomy is the right move for me. Well, I’ve put in more than two months now. I do all of my weird little stretches and exercises, to no avail. I am one of the most compliant patients that my therapist has, and nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zero. I still have the same amount and type of pain that I did when we started this particular therapy. It was said that I might be one of the cases that takes a year or longer to get relief. Plus, there is a chance that I may never get any relief from this constant, chronic, nagging pain that I suffer and struggle with every single day of my life. This realization took the wind right out of my sails.
Even though I am ready to give up on physical therapy, my therapist is an extremely determined woman. Truly, she has been a godsend to me as far as the mental and emotional aspects of dealing with this kind of chronic pain. I highly recommend her to anyone in my area who is having similar problems. She has an idea for trying a compound medication to be applied externally that would possibly numb the nerves and muscles in the area and get me some relief. It sounded a little scary to me, but I trust her enough to let her try this on me. We have to get my doctor to order it and she might not do that until after I see her next month, so until then my wait for relief continues…
Nobody really wants to think about the effects of chronic pain until and unless you are unfortunate enough to be forced to face it. That’s what happened with me; I never thought that I would be sick so young. Never in a million years would I have believed that. I was in the prime of my life. I was exercising and eating right. I had lost over 100 pounds with diet and exercise alone. I was in the best health of my life. Then in 2018, I got bronchitis and my life changed. I never recovered from that illness. I got hit with a double-whammy of two different, rare autoimmune diseases plus a slew of autoimmune-related diseases. Interstitial cystitis is one of them, and definitely the one that gives me the most trouble these days.
I have lost myself lately. I have been battling a hell of a depression so far this year. I have endured hit after hit in my autoimmune life. I have tried to hold myself together the best that I can. My poor husband has had his hands so full with me going crazy lately. Every time I get more bad news (and there’s been quite a bit lately), I fall to pieces… I lose my mind and cry like a baby. This is not the life I imagined. This is not the life that I wanted. This is not how it is supposed to be. I just want my life back. I want to feel normal again. I want to be able to run and play with my kids, instead of sitting home with excruciating pain. Is that really too much to ask?
On my down days, I always try to remind myself of all of the beauty in my life. Yes, I have my struggles in life, but it’s not a bad life. My life is full of obstacles and that’s okay. I have to work harder to achieve some of the basic functions in life, and that’s okay, too. I may have a ton of crap going on in my life, but I have the love and support of my husband and that is worth all of the obstacles the Universe can send my way. He spends so much time picking up my broken pieces over and over again. Even on my worst days, he shines a ray of light in my dark little world. There is no way in Hell I could ever survive this autoimmune life without him, and for that I am eternally grateful.
Stay strong autoimmune warriors and friends and family. Love and light now and always!