live, love, hurt

Today, I commented on an old friend’s Wall post on Facebook. This friend was from grade school in a tiny (pop. 1,800) farming town that I spent a good portion of my childhood in. It was about the recent healthcare bill and he was saying inaccurate things about it, so I tried to correct him. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t have any of it. I’m not going to start a Democrats vs. Republicans debate, because both sides are pretty stupid, but during the raging comment thread that followed, a ton of his friends (and people that used to know me from childhood) started commenting on me being a “drug user,” because I have information about my chronic pain condition on my Facebook profile. The thread is long and filled with ignorance, so I’ll do my best to summarize while still making this a worthwhile story to tell.

These people are from a secluded farming town in rural Illinois, near the St. Louis Metro East area. They don’t know anything about anything remotely medical. If their back hurts, they take Benedryl and go to sleep (or become alcoholics). These people only see narcotic analgesics when someone’s passing around some Vicodin along with the joint of marijuana. It only exists for people to take and feel good on. As far as these people are concerned, it might as well be beer for all they care. The first couple of guys told me “we all have aches and pains” and another mocked my “poor little back pain.” I gave them the benefit of the doubt and carefully explained what degenerative facet disease (or “facet syndrome”) is and what it does to you, and what foraminal narrowing (or “foraminal stenosis”) is and what it does to you. I explained it to them calmly, and with no anger. What do you suppose I received in response?

You need to see a doctor. You need help. It’s okay to admit you have a drug problem. Someone will help you. The pain can’t be that bad! The pain is from the withdrawal!

That was a summary of a couple of them… well, the nicer ones, and;

You’re just a junkie that doesn’t want to admit it. No pain can be that bad that you have to go and trick these doctors into giving you drugs all the time. You’re probably crushing them and snorting them or shooting them up. Show us some pictures of your arms, you dirty junkie.

that’s a summary of the vast majority of them. Why is this? Why are people more likely to believe you have a massive drug problem than a simple medical condition? In the world of the chronic pain patients we are used to being looked at with suspicion because of the narcotic analgesics we use every day to control our pain. Most of us are used to this prejudice; however, today I discovered another prejudice that I realized I’ve often been the victim of: not believing the intensity of the pain. I mean, it’s a no-brainer, it happens all the time–sometimes almost every day–but you explain it’s a serious medical condition that employs an entire field of study for specialist physicians and other medical professionals and the seriousness of the matter can usually–at that point–be somewhat understood by the general population. However, there’s always that group of people out there that will never believe you. No matter what’s medically wrong with you, there’s no possible way on earth that you could ever have pain that you can’t just get used to, or grin and bear. Like I said: these are tough farm boys, after all. The only time they’ve seen opioids is when someone’s passing around some Vicodin along with the joint of marijuana. It only exists for people to take and feel good on. As far as these people are concerned, it might as well be beer for all they care. They have no idea that heroin–a drug that has been demonized as to be the worst possible thing anyone can take because they’ll end up on the streets as a junkie–is an opioid, just like that Vicodin they use to relax from time to time. In small rural farm towns like this the drugs of choice tend to be alcohol and tobacco. When it comes to illicit drugs things like cocaine and even (or sometimes especially) meth are soft drugs, go ahead and have fun with them. For the most part, these people would never consider doing heroin–despite the fact they’ve all had a narcotic at some time or another.

The only extremely sad part about this particular conversation is that I went to school with most of these people from ages five through fourteen. Some of us were close friends. These people should know me. These people should be able to be entrusted with the knowledge of my medical condition. A few years out of town, and you’re a dirty junkie. This is why we, as a minority group, tend to not tell most people about our medical problems. It’s not a big deal to tell someone you can’t eat that because you’re diabetic and have to shoot insulin after every meal, but it’s a big horrible thing to tell someone you can’t do something because your pain limits your abilities and you have to take narcotic analgesics after every activity. Suddenly it’s no longer just a medical condition, but you’re a drug addict that’s totally faking it. When no one’s watching, you run and dance and play and do backflips, but when someone’s watching you break out the cane just so people will feel sorry for you.

If only.

This is a blog where I’m actually going to try to post. Crazy, I know. I have a plan, however.

Instead of boring details about what girl I like or why you simply must listen to the tracks of Lateralus in the Fibonacci sequence, I’m going to write about pain. I’m going to write about what it’s like to have pain all the time. I know, there’s plenty of chronic pain blogs out there, but I’m trying to focus on the fact that it’s real. This really is pain, and this really affects every single aspect of my life. From working to walking to having sex to bathing to wiping my own ass, pain makes everything harder, and makes you want to do them less frequently. I will do my best to present chronic pain sufferers as not drug addicts, but real people that have a real disability, and it’s really not that hard to understand if you really try really hard. Really.

I’ve started off by “importing” some things I’ve written on the topic in the past and put them up as back-dated posts. I’m planning on going through my old blog and importing some of the posts from around 2007, where I frequently started posting on some sort of ache in my back that just wouldn’t go away. Keep in mind 2007 was really two years after it started, and when I started aggressively seeking medical help since I could no longer manage it by myself. I will tag all of these back-dated posts with “imported” as to set them slightly apart from this new endeavor.

What I hope to accomplish is simple. I hope that someone, somewhere, even just one person stumbles onto this blog and finds acceptance of this issue, whether in the form of pure knowledge or in the form of embracing their aunt’s rheumatoid arthritis instead of yelling at her for being late to the birthday party. I want people that have loved ones with a pain problem to understand that no, we’re not using these drugs for fun, and yes, it really is hard to get out of bed. For some of us in pain, we’d rather sleep, because sleep doesn’t hurt.

My ambitions are high, but at least I have them.