Self-Induced Pain

I cannot live with this pain. God help me.

Monday night, I began feeling intensely cold. Since I'm heat intolerant and can't regulate my body temperature very well thanks to dysautonomia (postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome, or POTS for short, is the type I have), I was a bit confused. I went to bed feeling uncomfortable, but at 1am, I woke up in pain.

I couldn't stay still, and I felt like I was crawling out of my skin. I spent an hour or so talking to my friend who also has POTS and who was up as well. I moved from my bedroom to my brother's bedroom, which is currently not in use since he's in college. I got to bed around 5am, figuring it was just a bad flare-up and that I'd be fine the next morning.

I was wrong.

Throughout Tuesday, I felt increasingly uncomfortable. Staying still made my body physically ache. My muscles tensed, sometimes uncontrollably, and I was desperate to sleep after having slept poorly the last night.

I made myself stay up late (okay, it was 10:30, but I'm usually in bed by 10pm) to watch This Is Us. After yelling at the TV with my mom as if the character was actually my real life best friend and guessing how the character would die ("WHY IS HIS MOUTH CROOKED, MOM, IS HE HAVING A STROKE, CAN THAT HAPPEN WITH ALCOHOLISM?!"), we watched a few funny videos on YouTube. I headed to bed, exhausted but hopeful I'd sleep.

When I got into bed, the pain amplified times ten. Everything hurt: my fan blowing against my skin, the pressure of my back against the bed, the warmth of the heating pad as I tried to soothe the pain. I took a bath, which soothed the pain until I got out.

The type of pain I was experiencing is called allodynia. Allodynia is defined as the body having a reaction to stimuli which should not be painful.

Nothing I did would help this pain. I woke my mom in tears, asking what else I could do. We dug around the house and found some older prescriptions, but again, they didn't help. I took five baths, paced around my room, the hallway, the bathroom, and my brother's room. The pain gnawed at me, clinging to each nerve.

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It was the worst pain I had ever experienced. By morning, I hadn't slept, and considered going to the ER. They're going to think I'm some kid seeking drugs. I could almost hear the classic "you don't look sick" comment.

I managed to get an appointment at my primary care physician's office, though with a different doctor. I showed up wearing a loose shirt, workout shorts, and flip flops. I asked my mom to check me in, as I went to the restroom to throw up for the third time that day.

"I have some chronic conditions, and I've had pain before like this, but never this bad or this long," I said tot he doctor. "I've been getting sick. Everything hurts, all over, even just a light touch."

"Maybe you have a stomach virus," she suggested.

I stared back at her blankly. No, I did not have a stomach virus. I've learned over the past five years of being sick that you can't tell doctors they're wrong, not outright, at least. It's a game of sorts; I let them think that the idea is their own, and when they suggest something, I agree.

"This is the worst pain I've ever had in my life," I said. Surely she'd understand, as someone who has multiple chronic pain conditions (Ehlers Danlos syndrome, a condition which causes my joints to be incredibly hypermobile to the point where some of them partially dislocate, and secondary fibromyalgia, a condition which causes nerve pain, fatigue, achiness, and sensitivity), that this meant something.

"I'll prescribe you gapabentin, which should help with some of the nerve pain. If you're not feeling better in two weeks, make a follow-up."

My mom and I glanced at each other, the thought no way in hell going between us.

"What do we do if this keeps up tonight? We almost went to the ER today. Seeing your child in so much pain is so hard when they're bent over crying," Mom said. "She can't function like this.

The Mom Card seemed to be a bit more effective. Even though I'm an adult, this doctor, while kind, clearly didn't understand that I was in so much pain that I knew I'd likely be suicidal within a few days if it continued. I simply knew that I could not function like that. A natural reaction is to want to stop the pain, and this pain was too much for me to handle.

"The ER would just give you a few pills, if that."

"That's all we want."

The doctor decided this would be acceptable. A few stronger pills in lieu of my normal painkillers would hopefully knock out the pain.

When I took the gapabentin, I found little relief. I felt dazed, not having slept for over 24 hours, and so took the hydrocodone, an opioid, a little before 7pm.

Within half an hour, I felt immense relief. More relief than I had felt in years. Not only was the intense, biting pain gone, but so was the general pain that always clings to me during every waking hour.

"I know I can't have this all the time, but being at a 2/10 pain is so nice. I can't remember the last time I felt so good."

I went to remove my Tramadol from my nighttime medications. Tramadol isn't classed as an opioid, so there are fewer restrictions, and it's the medication I usually take for pain. Since I'd taken the hydrocodone, I couldn't have both medications, as they're both pretty sedating (though EDS means I'm resistant to sedatives, and I was fully awake after taking the hydrocodone, there's no need to risk it). I opened Wednesday's night slot in my pill case, grumbling how Wednesday night was always particularly difficult to open on the pill box, and as I poured out my pills, I narrowed my eyes.

There was no Tramadol to remove.

I began opening up my other pill slots for the week. Tramadol controls my pain daily, and I take it when I wake up, the afternoon, at nighttime, and in the middle of the night when my 3:30am alarm goes off. Because of the 3:30am alarm, I don't keep the pill bottle with all my other pill bottles.

I hadn't put a single Tramadol into my pill box. In the past two and a half days, instead of taking eight pills, I had taken only one or two Tramadols. After informing my family, I began looking up symptoms of Tramadol withdrawals. Skin crawling, feeling extremely cold or warm, restlessness, and insomnia were all symptoms.

I immediately added Tramadol into my pill boxes for the next two weeks. Needless to say, I'm going to put my Tramadol into the box with the rest of my medications, and leave a few at my bedside table.

This morning, I awoke overjoyed. I literally have never been so happy to be at my baseline level of fatigue, pain, nausea, etc. I can eat, I can lie on the bed without writhing in pain.

While I feel incredibly stupid for having caused this, I'm also grateful to know that this pain isn't permanent. Lesson learned: do not forget your Tramadol.