Confessions of a Concussed Cyclist: pain changes you

November 17, 2017

This past August I became very sick, very quickly.  I ended up in the Emergency Room at two in the morning because I felt so horrible.  While there, blood work showed that I had an infection (as well as a malfunctioning liver).  A few days later, as I was waking up from anesthesia, my O.R. nurse told me I also had strep throat.  “You looked very sick, but you didn’t act as sick as you looked. Why didn’t you say something?” my surgeon later asked me.  “It didn’t even register with me” was my reply. At my first post-op appointment, I learned that my gallbladder was basically dead when it was removed, something that should have caused me discomfort for some time, but did not.  My surgeon and I have discussed this on a few occasions; he finds it fascinating that I went so long, being so sick, yet not realizing it. I’ve told him “after you’ve been hit by an SUV, very little phases you!”

Since August 19, 2014 I often put things up to the “SUV test”… “does this hurt as much as getting hit by an SUV?” and 99.9% of the time, the answer is “NO!” the only time the pain was worse, was when my body couldn’t stand the discomfort of a dying gallbladder any longer and it finally registered with me…at that point, the pain was excruciating!

I have a high tolerance for pain; when you deal with it on a daily basis, I think it’s a must.  I’ve had needles stuck in my head more times than I can count. I’ve had two migraine treatments that involved them going up through my nose without anything to numb the area (there’s a gross image for those that didn’t know about the “hose in the nose” treatment my neurologist used me as a guinea pig for). I’ve had things done that have caused other patients to pass out due to the discomfort, that hasn’t even register with me.  But then there is the other side…

Yesterday I had to have blood work done; something done almost yearly to make sure everything is functioning properly because of the migraine medications that I am on.  Yes they help me to function on a daily basis, but they are wreaking havoc on my kidneys and liver. I am also more prone to bleeds (hence me now bruising like a peach).  So CBC’s are ordered to make sure all is well (and knock on wood, it always is). At yesterday’s blood draw, the technician had a hard time getting my vein (something very common for me; my veins look good but then they duck and cover when a needle punctures my skin) and was needing to “fish around” to find it.  She apologized for hurting me. I was uncomfortable, but it had nothing to do with the needle moving around inside my arm…ironically it was because of the rubber band around my bicep helping to make my veins pop. I always find it odd when something so little, so insignificant, can cause me discomfort. I can go to my neurologist’s office, receive 32 injections over my head, neck, and shoulders and not flinch, but then leave her office and get a splinter and want to breakdown.  When these small things cause me pain, I know I’m at a breaking point. I’ve put up with the pain for too long without any relief and my defences are down. Since the accident, I have had a daily migraine; the back of my head is often sore and tender to the touch (sometimes painful enough that even putting my head on a pillow is out of the question); my neck hurts due to torn muscles from the crash; and just for good measure, overall, my body aches. And let’s not forget, although it is not physical pain, I deal with cognitive issues every minute of every day as well.  I’ve always felt that if I *only* had to deal with the pain or if I *only* had to deal with the cognitive issues, my fight would be stronger, but dealing with both day to day, is exhausting. So yesterday, the tourniquet brought me to my breaking point, even though it failed the “SUV test”. Forget the non-stop migraine pain, forget that my weak neck is once again out of alignment and needs to be adjusted, forget that the back of my head feels like I’ve been hit with a baseball bat…yesterday, a small rubber band brought me to my knees.

Pain changes you.