This is a bonafide LONG ENTRY, meaning you might want to take a snack break and use the restroom before reading it, otherwise you may lose your place and become so lost you can’t find your way out. Beware.
On Thursday I decided to bring a crutch to school to help take some of the impact off my left knee, which was beginning to show the early signs of an attack of pain. Luckily my pain let eased up on that leg, and I was able to go through the rest of the day without wanting to amputate my limbs more than once or twice. I was at home and done with a nap when I realized the pain was going to find a way into my day, crutch or no crutch.

That night the left leg was fine, but my right foot was changing to a slightly swollen and ashen color, and the temperature dropped several degrees, a surefire sign that it was going to start hurting. The only logical next step would be to take a little bit of pain medicine to ward off the pain that was on its way. The pain settled down in my leg, but then started up again in my left arm, which was of course, the arm I’d used to hold the crutch.

That night was awful. I have not had that kalibur of pain that was so persistent in a very long time. Usually I take a pill or two and the pain is reduced to manageable, however this was different. After several hours and several pills later I fell into a fitfull sleep. The next day I expected my pain to have disappeared, but when I woke up it was even worse. I was screaming in pain, and nothing was helping. My mom gathered up a few things into her magical striped bag of goodies and took me to the ER at Vanderbilt. The first forty minutes were okay-the nurses were sweet, everyone was helpful, and they gave me two IV injections of morphine, but then a doctor came in spewing her knowledge of RSD and what I was doing wrong, and how if I wasn’t going to cooperate she can’t help me, and blah blah blah. She spoke to me like I was a six year old, and as if I was a criminal for having a legitimate disease and wanting some help with it.

After that bitch came in and said not to give me any more pain medicine, and told me to exercise eight hours a day and be homeschooled, everyone’s attitude changed. The nurse whom I’d really liked started being short with me, just because I was crying and was upset over what that doctor had said, and then we were told that there was nothing else they could do for me, that we’d probably need to leave now. My pain was still there, and it was still terrible, but now it had moved into my right arm AND my left arm, and life was just a little bit more miserable because of my time at Vanderbilt. I pretty much slept all weekend, was on a drug that makes me grouchy (and constipated) but gives me some relief from my hell, was on my period and did I mention? We had to put my dog to sleep.
I feel I could take on most anything–including labor and a frontal lobtomy after a weekend like this.
Oh and we put my dog to sleep.