Twelve weeks in hell
It has been 12 weeks since my head hasn’t hurt.
That’s 84 days.
That’s 2016 hours.
That’s 3 months.
One-fourth of this year I’ve been in constant, horrible pain.
That sentence is devastating to type, to read. I’ve lost a quarter of this year to misery. I’ve lost a quarter of this year to pain that I can’t control, that doctors can’t control and that, at best, we won’t be able to solve for another month.
I have been lost in agony for 12 weeks.
My biggest fear right now is not more tests, it’s not more brain surgery. My biggest fear is that the next step (a cisternogram to be done in November) won’t show the problem we’re expecting it to. I have nightmares that we do this test, another fucking lumbar puncture and nothing shows up. No CSF leak, no issue, nothing that can be fixed. Because then we have nothing. Then we have this. This life right now.
My worst nightmare is that my life stays the way it is now.
I don’t know how to formulate the words to tell you how hard this has been. How difficult this continues to be on my mind, both physically and emotionally. I cry every day. I get lost in self-pity every day. I lose a little more of myself every day.
I have spent 12 weeks in my own personal hell. I don’t know how much more I can handle.
7 Responses to “Twelve weeks in hell”
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Welcome! I'm Katie, a 28 year old, full-time graduate student who just happened to have brain surgery in November of 2007 to give my ginormous brain a little more space. This blog chronicles my daily life, from relentless headaches to being a doctor's wife. Sit down, get comfortable and stay for a while.
Pain eats away at your spirit and erodes your energy, your outlook, your disposition, your hope. To be in such intolerable pain for such a long time has to take its toll. I read recently that chronic pain causes depression. Duh. I wonder what genius figured that out.
Anyway, as sad as it makes me to hear you say you are still in pain…as difficult it is to watch your blog go from your clever, witty observations to one of such limited joy and peace…as hard as this is…it is all totally understandable.
All I can offer you is prayers for your well being, for answers, for resolution, and for your life to move forward with freedom from pain.
I just wish there was something I could say that would make you feel better and more hopeful. But words fall short.
So I will put my trust in God to hear my prayers.
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rbn Reply:
October 25th, 2009 at 11:13 pm
as usual, I echo Sue G, who says it far more eloquently than I could.
Thinking of you tonight and sending some good thoughts out into the void.
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I know what it is like to live in your own person hell. Athough mine is wrought with the physical pain that you are in. I wish you all the best. Don’t give up. This is the hard part I know. Believe me I know.
@Aimshin
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I meant to say not wrought…sry.
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I wish there was something I could do or say. All I can do is keep reading everyday and keep you in my prayers. I’m so sorry.
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I’m so sorry that you have to go through this. Sending you positive thoughts for a speedy, definitive solution.
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paging dr. house, dr. house.
can’t he be real? just this once?!?
i’m so so sorry you are in such pain.
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