tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68876292337102176812024-03-10T22:23:26.365-05:00sky-circlesI was a chronic pelvic pain patient who wrote about my health struggles for 7 years. After successful treatment and returning to school, I am about to become a women's health physical therapist. Some estimate 5% of women as well as millions of men will experience pelvic pain in their lifetime, yet they are under-researched, misdiagnosed, and misunderstood. In the midst of rapidly evolving medical discoveries and technology, priority needs to be given to pelvic pain.Tamrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13788932363826493441noreply@blogger.comBlogger132125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6887629233710217681.post-31140243650940435162015-05-08T08:39:00.000-05:002015-05-08T08:39:00.470-05:00My Story<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">I just finished my last final of physical therapy school and now only have my last rotation in pelvic floor and the PT boards exam left before I can practice. With school coming to a close, I've thought a lot about how I got here. I've blogged about my medical journey for seven years now, but I've never put my entire story together. A few months ago I was asked to write my story for <b>Pelvic Pain Explained</b>, a book written by two physical therapists that is due out in January 2016. I am thrilled to share my essay with you now and hope you look for it when it hits shelves in a few months!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><b>Part I:</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt;">"Birds
make great sky-circles</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt;">of
their freedom.</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt;">How do
they learn it?</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt;">They
fall, and falling,</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt;">they
are given wings."</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt;">-Rumi
(translated by Coleman Barks)</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></i><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">I was
a busy college freshman only concerned with three things: my studies, tennis
practice, and going out swing dancing with my boyfriend. I was young and eager
to figure out my place in the world. </span><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Every day I would wake up early for tennis practice
and hit for a few hours. Then I would quickly wolf down breakfast at the
cafeteria and go to my classes before returning in the afternoon for weightlifting,
conditioning, and more drills. I was known on the team for my mental toughness
and my ability to do whatever it took to win.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> That
strength would disappear when I first had sharp pain with intercourse the
summer after my freshman year. My boyfriend and I had been together for eight
months, and up until that point, sex had been pain-free. Obviously concerned, I
began seeing several gynecologists. The first told me I had a yeast infection,
gave me some medication, and sent me on my way. The pain continued, so I saw
another gynecologist on campus who told me I had a UTI, gave me some medication,
and sent me on my way. The pain only worsened, and one night during my
sophomore year, I felt such a stabbing pain that I found myself in an ambulance
on my way to the emergency room. The doctor on call disregarded everything I
told him and told me I must have an STD and tried to treat me for it. When I
explained this was impossible as I was in a committed relationship that
practiced safe sex, and besides hadn’t had intercourse in months, he shook his
head, said I must be lying and there was nothing more he could do. I left the
ER that night feeling ashamed and misunderstood.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">I felt so alone in my pain - no one could see or
understand I was hurt. I closed up for months, unable to tell anyone what I was
going through. The pain continued to break me down, and I found it more and
more difficult to make it through my school work and daily tennis practices. I
began skipping classes because I had difficulty sitting through lectures and
placing pressure on my pelvis. If I had to attend class, I brought ice pack
pads to put in my underwear and wore bulky sweatpants so no one would know.
After continued frustration, I went to a fourth gynecologist who mentioned
vulvar vestibulitis for the first time to me. She explained this was a new
diagnosis for women who felt sharp pain around their vulva and referred me to a
specialist in Philadelphia for further treatment.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> During my first visit to the specialist, I
was prescribed an estrogen-based cream to build up the tissue around my vulva.
I was also placed on an increasing dosage of an antidepressant as part of a
pain control intervention. It had disastrous effects on me. Over the course of
the next few months, I experienced extreme emotional swings. I would cry in the
shower and found myself yelling at those closest to me. The medication also
made me extremely groggy and made it even more difficult to focus on my school
work. My dad drove to my school several times a week to type my papers while I
would dictate from bed. I no longer felt in control of my body or my mind. It
was the furthest from myself that I have ever felt.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Not able to handle the side effects any longer, I
returned to my specialist and I remember sitting across from her in a small,
cold room. I was frustrated that my treatments weren’t working and wanted
answers. She looked into my eyes and told me that vulvar vestibulitis is a
chronic condition and that there would always be flare-ups, so I had better
start preparing to live with this for the rest of my life. I felt the last bit
of hope in me was shattered. I would never get better? How could I continue to
live my life like this? The word chronic felt like a prison sentence. It meant
both the certainty that I would have pain and the uncertainty of how it would
affect me. I was trapped. I sat motionless on the train back home that day,
watching the world whirl by me. I felt as if my life was rushing past me and I
was missing it. To make matters worse, this visit coincided with a bad break-up
only weeks later. We had been together for two years, but the weight of my
illness became too much for him to handle. I believed no one would ever love me
again, that I was cursed to go through this life alone. There was no sense in
looking ahead to the future. I was now living day to day.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Since conservative treatment had failed, my
specialist signed me up for a vestibulectomy. If the vulva were a clock, this
surgery would essentially cut out 4:00-8:00, the portions that were causing me
the most pain, and would replace them with internal vaginal tissue. In my case,
the issue with this last resort surgery was its narrowed focus. It would cut
out the place I first felt pain, but what if there were more to the story? What
if my pain came from elsewhere? These were questions I did not have enough
knowledge to ask.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">It was at this point that I turned to writing and
started a health blog called “Sky-Circles.” The title was based on a poem by
Rumi about having hope in the face of struggle. I had always been an avid
reader, but I turned to poetry when I was sick - not as a hobby, but as a
necessity. I sought solace in the words of Mary Oliver and Rumi. And
eventually, they inspired me to write. It had been seven long months of
misdiagnosis, failed treatments, and continued pain that I had kept hidden from
everyone but my immediate family. Writing was cathartic and allowed me to share
my story. I found a nurturing online community where women could share their
experiences and seek guidance. Only weeks before my vestibulectomy, a reader of
my blog wrote to me and suggested that I see a women’s health physical
therapist because something else could be referring pain to my pelvis. She gave
me the name of Liz and Stephanie’s practice in San Francisco and after
researching what pelvic floor physical therapy entailed, I decided it was time
to become proactive about my health. This whole time I blindly let my doctors
dictate my plan of care. It was time for me to become educated before making
any more medical decisions. I booked an appointment and my flight, and two
weeks later, my mom and I found ourselves driving up and down the hills of San
Francisco. We would soon learn that up until this point, doctors had been
looking at my pain through a narrowed lens. We were about to step back and see
the bigger picture.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><b>Part 2:</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt;">“But
who</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt;">can
understand what life is like</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt;">when it
begins to crumble?”</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt;">-Mary
Oliver</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> It wasn’t my first time seeing a women’s
health physical therapist. I had previously seen two in New Jersey who claimed
expertise in the field, but in hindsight, had no idea what they were doing when
it came to my case. The first only prescribed Kegel exercises and said I needed
to strengthen my pelvic floor. The second used a biofeedback machine to show me
I needed to relax my pelvic floor. Going to San Francisco was a completely
different experience. Liz performed a comprehensive evaluation that included an
internal pelvic and external orthopedic exam. She paid close attention to my
hips, testing my flexibility and strength. She also asked extensive questions
about my medical and athletic history. At the end of the visit she told me her
findings, which included limited range of motion at the hip, indicative of
labral tears. She explained the asymmetrical rotation of tennis led to
repetitive motion at the hips, causing stress to the musculature and joint. Liz
also explained that hip trauma can refer pain to the pelvis. She recommended
seeing a sports physician and having imaging done immediately. I flew back to
the East Coast feeling more educated and more in control of my future. I was in
the middle of my junior year and felt hopeful for the first time that I would
make it to graduation pain-free.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Sure enough, I had tears in both my left
and right labrum, and spent the next two summers getting them repaired. They
ended up being two of the biggest tears my surgeon had ever seen and required
extensive rehabilitation. I found a new pelvic floor physical therapist in NYC,
who did extensive internal and external manual physical therapy work, as well
as strengthen and stretch my hips. We discovered my pelvic floor was extremely
tight, as well as my obturator internus and piriformis muscles. This was an
explanation for why sitting had been so painful. Slowly, I started improving
and feeling more like myself. My hips became stronger and I felt ready to get
back to my life. When I became a senior, I was named captain of my university’s
tennis team, an accomplishment I thought I would have to give up for good. I
put my patient identity to the side and became an athlete again. I played my
heart out, but as the matches continued, the pain in my hips returned. I had to
leave halfway through the year to focus more on recovery.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Although my hip surgeries were successful,
I was still having setbacks in my treatment. I continued to have pain
throughout my body. I found a new pelvic health specialist and went through two
years of traumeel injections, a natural anti-inflammatory to help reduce pain.
She would give them to me at certain trigger points around my vulva, vaginal
opening, gluteal muscles, and hips. The injections only lasted a few minutes,
but needles going into your vagina and deep into your muscles is not an easy
procedure to sit through. I would have to bring a pad for the walk home to
prevent the blood from staining my underwear. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Around this time I finished my degree and
accepted an exciting opportunity to work in environmental advocacy in Denver. I
wasn’t healthy yet, but I was tired of waiting to start my life. In many ways,
I needed an escape. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Unfortunately, after
less than two months of working, I called home crying and explained I couldn’t
do it anymore. My parents, steadfast in their love and support, picked me up
from the airport that weekend.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Back home, I went through yet another surgery, repairing tears
along my pubic bone and surgically releasing my tight adductor muscles. I was
infuriated and upset that yet again, my life was back on hold. I still had
difficulty sitting for longer than 15 minutes and dealt with constant,
unshakeable pain. But giving up wasn’t an option for me. I went to physical
therapy after my third surgery and was referred to a pain doctor for
prolotherapy injections. These differed from my previous injections because
they were more aggressive and required longer sessions.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Every month for the next year I went through trigger point
injections in my hip, pelvic, and gluteal regions; the idea being the irritant
glucose solution would trigger the body’s natural healing process and repair
damaged areas. <span style="background: white;">Each treatment was over an hour
of repetitive injections with long needles. Out of all the things I went
through, these treatments were undoubtedly the worst. During the first one, I
was unprepared, but managed to stay silent until I curled up in the back of the
car while my mom drove me home. I cried and cried and cried. I cried out in
pain, for going through something so awful, for not knowing when it would end.
I cried because I wanted to be braver, stronger, better. I cried because it
felt right and because I needed it and because I wanted to feel something other
than pain.</span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> And so, having been there myself, I want to
tell you that it is okay to be at your worst. To cry your heart out because you
feel defeated and alone and scared. It’s okay to feel pain, to lose control and
run away for awhile. It’s okay to lean on your friends and family, even though
you have been for weeks or months or years. It's okay to be vulnerable and ask
for help and see a therapist. It's okay to shut yourself down and lock yourself
in your room. Just do whatever you can to make it through the day. Know that
change is the only constant in life, and tomorrow always brings new
possibilities. After six months of enduring the difficult prolotherapy
treatments, I finally started to notice a decrease in my pain.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><b>Part
3:</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“One
day you finally knew</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">what
you had to do, and began...” </span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">-Mary
Oliver: The Journey</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">I continued to document my medical and emotional struggles online
since writing was so therapeutic. My blog began to grow in readership as more
women searched for answers. It soon reached tens of thousands of readers from
across the world. What began as a personal release became an avenue to spread
awareness about an unknown and too-often misunderstood topic.<span style="background: white;"> I unexpectedly became a confidant and mentor to
others struggling with pelvic pain.</span> I even appeared on an MTV True Life
episode to further advocate women’s health, especially the intimate connection
between the hips and pelvis. I received hundreds of emails from readers
expressing their gratitude for my openness and asking for help in their own
medical struggles. As I read more of these emails, I realized I could offer
more than just an encouraging response or a referral. I realized over these
past few years, my path continued to lead me back to women’s health.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">One day, I was sitting in the exam chair at my specialist and
suddenly knew that I should become a women’s health physical therapist. Despite
the barriers of going back to school and my continuing health problems, I
wanted to help others find answers sooner than I found mine.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> I wanted to offer comprehensive
medical care that looked at the whole body, the whole person. I wanted to help
others overcome <span style="background: white;">struggle and hardships and help them
persevere and make a meaningful life for themselves. And so, I set off to give
my own life more meaning.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">In August 2012, I started at Thomas Jefferson
University in Philadelphia, PA. For the past three years, I have worked towards
my doctorate degree in physical therapy and my dream of becoming a pelvic floor
therapist. As I find myself mere months from graduation, I am excited and eager
to begin and help my patients heal. My dream is to develop a practice that
focuses on holistic pelvic health, especially female athletes. I want to
develop protocols for these women, to prevent injuries like mine from occurring
to others in the future. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">I have been able to focus on my health, as well
as my schoolwork. During the first year of school I worked with a new pelvic
floor therapist in Philadelphia to manage my residual pain through aggressive
manual work, strengthening exercises, and stretching. I am happy to report that
after that first year I have not been back to physical therapy and have stopped
all injection treatments. I have also been able to fall in love and have
pain-free sex for the first time in five years I am beginning to love my body
instead of seeing it as a battleground. I continue to live pain-free through
preventative care, such as maintaining a healthy, balanced diet, stretching
tight musculature, training with functional movement, strengthening my core and
pelvis, and utilizing good body mechanics. I also focus more on emotional
health, reducing stressors in my life, by meditation, reading, and yoga.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">People often ask what helped me the most during
my recovery. With such a complicated medical history and trying so many
interventions simultaneously, it is difficult to pinpoint the exact medical
impetus for my healing. After going through physical therapy school, I firmly
believe in the strong connection of the pelvic floor and the hips. The
surgeries I went through fixed my body’s mechanical problems, while the
proceeding physical therapy strengthened muscles that were weak and stretched
muscles that were overcompensating.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">The most useful thing for me during this entire
process has been the obtainment of knowledge. Self-education allowed me to take
control over my own health care once I started researching which competent
specialists to see.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> <span style="background: white;">As a physical therapist, it’s a requirement to be a lifelong
learner, but I urge other patients to actively seek information so they can be
proactive about their health.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><b>Part 4</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt;">“As for
myself, I swung the door open. And there was</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt;">the
wordless, singing world. And I ran for my life.”</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt;">-Mary
Oliver: Work, Sometimes</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">My story is about broadening perspective. What
began as a sharp, localized pain in June 2007, grew to encompass a journey
throughout my body and mind for the next seven years. When I was in the midst
of my pain, I would have done anything for someone to take it away from me.
When I felt the most broken, a dear friend gave me a small Japanese pot with
several gold lines. I thought it was an unusual gift until I read the card,
which said it was a piece of Kintsugi pottery. It is a Japanese method of
fixing cracked pottery with gold or silver. It is more than an art form, it is
a philosophy. The Japanese believe there is beauty in being broken, that cracks
should be celebrated and not concealed. They also believe the gold fillings
reinforce the pottery, making it stronger than it was before.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Now, looking back at the person I have become, I
would not change my journey. I am surrounded by family and friends, who have
gone through the fires with me and continue to support me. My experiences have
forged my life into something more worthwhile. Not only have I discovered a new
career, but I have also found love. I have been with my boyfriend for more than
three years and he respects the struggles I have been through, while holding
deep affection for the woman I have become. I used to associate sex with
suffering, but now we can explore passion and intimacy in a safe and
affectionate space. Better yet, as the sun enters our room in the mornings, I
wake up in his arms, no longer feeling broken or alone. He puts a smile on my
face every day and has taught me to be less angry and more carefree. We
frequently go to our local park and throw around an old football, running and
jumping for passes like two young kids who never want to come back inside. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">It’s such an incredible feeling to sprint down
that football field with no fears or limitations. I am currently in the best
physical shape of my life, even better than my years as a collegiate athlete. I
go to the gym daily and especially love serious weight lifting. I have climbed
Kilimanjaro, the tallest mountain in Africa, along with several other high
mountain peaks in the United States. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Last year, I ran my first marathon for my 26</span><sup><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 7.5pt;">th</span></sup><span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> birthday. I remember my first
long training run and how difficult it was to drag myself out of bed and out
the door. Once I hit the trail, the road seemed endless out in front of me. As
my feet hit the pavement, images flashed through my mind of the past four
years. I especially remembered the difficult rehabilitation after my last
surgery. With the support of my crutches and parents, I repeatedly hobbled
around the living room table until I fulfilled the mile-a-day recovery
requirements stipulated by my surgeon. During that time, the road seemed
endless too. As hard as I tried, as strong as I was, I felt like I could never
reach the end of it. All I could do was keep my head down and power through
each step, willing myself to move forward.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">The memories soon faded during that training run
in late September. The sun was out, the leaves were turning, and I lifted my
head up to absorb everything around me. The river ran along next to me as I
traveled further and further. The road used to be so frightening to me because
it was boundless and I never knew when or if I could get off it. Now I’m
realizing that’s the beauty of it. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">H<span style="background: white;">ealth is not something we obtain,
it is a state of being. And it requires work every single day. That autumn day,
the road stretched out in front of me, and I let go of it all and just ran. For
the first time, I enjoyed how limitless it was. Because this time I could keep
running.</span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Tamrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13788932363826493441noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6887629233710217681.post-41297402605661688862014-02-05T08:48:00.001-06:002015-05-03T08:04:41.551-05:00The Man Behind the Curtain<div style="text-align: center;">
Pain does not equal damage. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You are more than your pain.</div>
<br />
These ideas are easy to understand, yet difficult to adopt. Imagine if we (patients and practitioners) could embrace these attitudes. Imagine if we cohesively united to change how we think about and treat chronic pain. Imagine pain no longer as a nebulous force in our lives, but a defined and logical biopsychosocial process.<br />
<br />
I am currently attending the Combined Sections Meeting for the American Physical Therapy Association (APTA) and listened this morning to Dr. David Butler and Dr. Lorimer Moseley's "Explaining Pain" lecture. What an experience! It took them less than four hours to shake my fundamental understanding of chronic pain. One of the topics they broached was utilizing and choosing the right metaphors when explaining pain. Looking back over my writings, I am slowly realizing I took the wrong approach when discussing my pain. Remember this poem I wrote? It was one of my favorites because I thought it perfectly represented my inner battle:<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">In the <span class="il">Ring</span></span><br />
<br />
My life is a constant battle<br />
of bruises and bullies.<br />
Are you fighting too?<br />
<br />
Remember, dear friend.<br />
Our scars do not deform us,<br />
they define us.<br />
<br />
Go another round.<br />
----------------------<br />
<br />
At the time, this poem made perfect sense to me. I was a fighter, I was strong. My body was a battlefield and I would fight pain to the end. Herein lies the problem. How can you win a battle against yourself? This warrior metaphor is detrimental to our healing process. If we expend all our energy fighting ourselves, how can we begin to heal ourselves? It reminds me of The Wizard of Oz. We need to look at pain less as the booming and flashy "Great and All-Powerful Oz," and more as the man behind the curtain. We need to get close and see pain for what it really is, instead of standing back and marveling at its power. We need to stop giving strong metaphors to pain and building it up to be some large force we are waging war upon. It's time for the lights and smoke to dissipate and time to become better acquainted with our pain.<br />
<br />
It's a scary thought- to become better acquainted with your pain. You make it out as some great enemy, yet the only way to defeat it is to befriend it. After listening to the Explaining Pain lecture, I reflected on my fight with pain and realized it should be my pain journey. I started feeling better a year ago when I was a semester into my physical therapy program. Yes I had several surgeries, PT, prolotherapy leading up to that point that contributed to my relief, but I also had the power of knowledge that school provided. I was forced to look at my pain systematically, to understand what was hurting where and how I could strengthen or stretch the affected muscles or quiet the spasms. I learned to reduce my stresses outside of school, to work on my relationships with family and friends, to attend yoga classes regularly... to start loving my body and stop seeing it as a battleground.<br />
<br />
There is still much to be learned about pain and its process. But it is time to stop fighting our own bodies, and start fostering understanding of why we experience pain and what we can do to lower our contributing factors. Wizard of Oz writer L. Frank Baum told us, "Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain," but that's exactly what we need to do.<br />
<br />Tamrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13788932363826493441noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6887629233710217681.post-19412854123289065642013-03-24T12:36:00.001-05:002015-05-03T08:04:51.016-05:00Birthday WishesFor the past 5 years I have stared at the candles in front of me and wished for the pain to go away. There were even a few birthdays I refused to leave bed because I was so defeated. Last year my pain levels drastically improved, but I still felt unsure about the future and scared of flare-ups. I was also still going prolotherapy and wasn't sure how many more treatments I'd have to endure.<br />
<br />
I used to be frightened that I was in control of my health decisions- what doctors to see, what treatments to try, what medication to take. I wanted a magical fix, someone to take control for me and make it all go away. I didn't realize that I was the one who needed to be in control, needed to be proactive, needed to make lifestyle changes to maintain my health. I have finally accepted there is no singular solution. My body necessitates daily stretching, vigorous exercise, proper nutrition, mental strengthening, and commitment. I am completely in control, which no longer frightens me but empowers me. Not only has this experience shaped my professional life, but it's given me a greater quality of life. I am currently in the best shape of my life, and getting stronger every day. When I do have flare-ups, I know exactly what muscles are tight and what combination of modalities and stretching I can do to abolish the symptoms. Pain is no longer this nebulous and exhausting cloud weighing me down, but an identifiable problem I can fix.<br />
<br />
I have been so focused on my health and school that I forgot to make a 5 year anniversary post. As I scroll back to my earlier posts, I cannot believe how much I have been molded and reshaped. It has and continues to be a transformative process. I have met some incredible people along the way and continue to be inspired.<br />
<br />
What's even more incredulous to me then turning 25 tomorrow is that when I stare down at those candles, for the first time in five years, I won't know what wish to make.Tamrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13788932363826493441noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6887629233710217681.post-71558972428790321752013-03-08T12:32:00.002-06:002015-05-03T08:04:58.922-05:00<span class="widget-title">Truth's Illumination</span><br />
<div class="navigation">
<span class="close"></span></div>
<div class="" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">One glowing flame can</span></div>
<div class="" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">light a hundred candles,</span></div>
<div class="" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">and then a hundred times</span></div>
<div class="" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">a hundred more. I pray to </span></div>
<div class="" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">be such a flame, my illusions</span></div>
<div class="" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">giving fuel to what is real.</span></div>
<div class="" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Light recognizes light,</span></div>
<div class="" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">and leaps to meet it.</span></div>
<div class="" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">May this sweet contagion</span></div>
<div class="" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">increase until light prevails,</span></div>
<div class="" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">and we all live in the</span></div>
<div class="" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">glow of truth’s illumination.</span></div>
<div class="" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;"> Danna Faulds</span>Tamrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13788932363826493441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6887629233710217681.post-17115457462125627622013-01-22T17:23:00.000-06:002015-05-03T08:05:21.222-05:00Pain's graspI promised more updates and exciting news over this winter break which has come and gone. However, circumstances arose and people very close to me needed my attention and care. Now I am back in school, starting my second semester and don't have the free time I need to begin my project. What I hope to put together my next break is a small collection of poetry, entries, and thoughts I have developed over the years living with pain. It's not to be simply a motivational book, but the journey one goes through when suffering. I have found my best companion during the worst times to be quotes and poems and books and hope to generate a similar companion for others to have. Anyway, that's a small glimpse of what's to come.<br />
<br />
Like always, a lot has happened since I last wrote. I did in fact run that half marathon I was training for and I treasured every mile. After all the surgeries and invasive treatments, I was elated to see my body perform and enjoy itself. I remember the days I hobbled around the kitchen table, where each step seemed to be a mile. <br />
<br />
Last semester I continued to see a pelvic floor specialist at UPenn and was very impressed with my results. It is amazing how much physical therapy has lowered my pain levels. Unfortunately the therapist I was seeing moved to a different practice recently. I am currently looking for someone new, but it is difficult to balance with my most challenging semester ahead of me. I have been focusing more on maintaining pain levels myself. There are numerous stretches I do for my hip flexors and piriformis. I'm avoiding sitting for long periods of time, especially on uncomfortable surfaces. I am also spending more time doing yoga and utilizing my stim pack on my piriformis to get me through lectures. It's also a big help to have my boyfriend or good friends use their elbows to work on my trigger points.<br />
<br />
Things have been going very well, but this past week was a bit of a setback. I think it was a mixture of starting a new semester, dealing with different stresses, and even the weather outside. I had more pain than normal and I was a bit depressed (mostly from feeling the pain in higher intensity.) I found myself retreating to my room and lying on bed, submitting to pain's grasp. Sometimes I don't feel strong enough to fight it off. Mostly I am tired that I need to actively fight it off every day. Don't get me wrong- I have been so happy the past year and things have changed significantly. It's just difficult when pain slowly creeps back in and takes hold of you. I know there's many people out there who know the feeling for many different reasons. I think it is important to know that you don't have to be strong all the time. It is okay to be upset and think it's unfair. All of us have moments we break down. What makes us strong is getting back up in the morning and tackling a new day. Sometimes we need help. But ultimately we lift our own heads back up and keep going. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">"...Yet if I could instruct</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">myself, if we could learn to learn from pain</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">even as it grasps us if the mind, the mind that lives</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">in this body could refuse to let itself be crushed</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">in that grasp it would loosen Pain would have to stand</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">off from me and listen its dark breath still on me</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">but the mind could begin to speak to pain</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">and pain would have to answer:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><br /></i>
<i> We are older now</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>we have met before these are my hands before your eyes</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>my figure blotting out all that is not mine</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>I am the pain of division creator of divisions...</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i> And remember</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>I have no existence apart from you</i>"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">from Splittings by Adrienne Rich in <u>A Dream of a Common Language</u></span>Tamrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13788932363826493441noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6887629233710217681.post-13665056989931903422012-10-14T16:53:00.001-05:002015-05-03T08:05:11.546-05:00The Road<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
I'm training for the Philly half-marathon and had to do my eight mile run today. It's beautiful out, but it still took effort to drag myself out the door and off to the Schuylkill River. I've never run eight miles before, and it can be difficult to get motivated if you're running alone. I got on the trail and the road seemed endless out in front of me. As my feet hit the pavement, images flashed through my head of the past four years. Recovering from each new surgery, re-learning how to walk three separate times. Each time I would drag myself out the door and hit the trail on crutches, a cane, and finally my own two feet. During those times, the road seemed endless too. I felt as hard as I tried, as strong as I was, I could never reach the end of that road. All I could do was keep my head down and power through each step.<br />
<br />
Today the sun was out and the leaves were turning, and I kept my head up to absorb everything around me. The river ran along next to me as I traveled further and further. And would you believe somewhere around mile 4 a monarch butterfly flew along with me for a few seconds? If you recall t<a href="http://sky-circles.blogspot.com/2011/10/butterflies.html">his post</a> from almost exactly a year ago, you'll understand my life continuing to come full circle. <br />
<br />
The road used to be so frightening to me because it was boundless and I never knew when or if I could get off it. Now I'm realizing that's the beauty of it. The road stretched out in front of me and I released my
feet and just ran. For the first time, I enjoyed how limitless it was.
Because this time I could keep running. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Tamrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13788932363826493441noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6887629233710217681.post-14926499712931814982012-09-18T16:34:00.001-05:002015-05-03T08:05:27.334-05:00TransitionsMy life is currently in a series of transitions. I'm transitioning from suburban life to city life, from a familiar home to a new apartment. I'm transitioning from an employee to a student. Most importantly, I'm transitioning from a patient to a practitioner. Granted this transition will take me three long years, but the process is beginning. The problem with transitions is you cannot simply forget the past. <br />
<br />
I'm having some difficulties moving from the patient mindset. This is because I still have pain and frustrations about what exactly is occurring with my body. Sitting through classes is quite difficult at times. It seems like my piriformis muscle refuses to relax, no matter how much I stretch it, stim it, or ice it when I get home from school. I'm looking into pelvic floor therapists in Philadelphia and will hopefully find some time to make improvements.<br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong, my pain levels have tremendously decreased from a year ago. The combination of hip and pelvic surgeries, as well as the proceeding physical therapy and the intense prolotherapy injections into trigger points have made the pain much more liveable. <br />
<br />
I think today was an especially emotional one because we covered the pelvis and pelvic floor muscles in Anatomy class. On the one hand, I was ecstatic because it's structures and muscles I'm so familiar with, which will give me time to catch up on previous lectures. On the other hand, it was difficult to sit through- mentally and literally. When we talked about the ischial tuberosities, I was more aware of the pressure and pain emanating from my own sit bones. When we talked about the pubic symphysis, I was more aware of the scars covering that area on my body, and the erosion of the bone I'm dealing with. We talked about the obturator internus, which I know too well how that feels to be internally palpated and worked on by a therapist. Finally we spent a great deal in the powerpoint talking about the piriformis and how it is the reference point of the pelvic region. Slide after slide, I stared it down, almost challenging it. This is my great enemy, who I will do everything in my power to finally defeat. I'm determined to learn everything I can so that I am no longer at its mercy. And so that I can effectively treat my own patients one day.<br />
<br />
Just a side-note: now that I'm in school, I have less time to answer the personal emails I receive. Please know that I read each and every one, as well as all the comments you leave. You are not alone. And if you ever find yourself in Philadelphia, drop me an email and we can get coffee.Tamrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13788932363826493441noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6887629233710217681.post-81261261404336309792012-07-13T21:23:00.001-05:002012-07-13T21:23:26.877-05:00<b>Power</b><br />
<b> </b><br />
Living in the earth-deposits of our history<br />
<br />
Today a backhoe divulged out of a crumbling flank of earth<b></b><br />
one bottle amber perfect a hundred-year-old<br />
cure for fever or melancholy a tonic<br />
for living on this earth in the winters of this climate<br />
<br />
Today I was reading about Marie Curie:<br />
she must have known she suffered from radiation sickness<br />
her body bombarded for years by the element<br />
she had purified<br />
It seems she denied to the end<br />
the source of the cataracts on her eyes<br />
the cracked and suppurating skin of her finger-ends<br />
till she could no longer hold a test-tube or a pencil<br />
<br />
She died a famous woman denying<br />
her wounds<br />
denying<br />
her wounds came from the same source as her power<br />
<br />
<b> -Adrienne Rich</b><br />
<br />
<br />
I came across this poem today because I am reading <u>Wild</u> by Cheryl Strayed, a grief-stricken and lost woman who decides to hike the Pacific Crest Trail to find catharsis. She is completely unprepared and ends up carrying a ridiculously heavy pack. Later on in her journey she is given some help on what items she can get rid of to lighten her load. She relented on most things except her copy of <u>The Dream of a Common Language</u> by Adrienne Rich. She brought other books as well, but was able to burn chapters as she read them. But there was something in this book that she safeguarded and there was some reason she carried it thousands of miles. I wanted to know why. I felt connected to Cheryl a few pages in because she was a female backpacker, choosing a poetry book as her lone companion. It had to be pretty special.<br />
<br />After no luck in a used bookstore, I decided to cross the street and search in Barnes and Noble. Lo and behold, there was one copy left. Too curious to find a table, I plopped myself down on the carpet. Tall bookshelves rose above me as I turned to the first poem. It was the same poem Cheryl turned to her first night on the trail. It was perfect.Tamrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13788932363826493441noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6887629233710217681.post-51316811078691539132012-07-13T13:19:00.000-05:002012-07-13T13:19:21.940-05:00digging through notebooksI found this entry in one of my notebooks, dated 2/25/12 and wanted to share it.<br />
<br />
I have been gone a long time. Updating is getting difficult for me because I find I'm distancing myself from past horrors. And even though there are still health obstacles to overcome, I find it easier not to write about it. I want to enjoy life and relish in this happiness. For months now, I wake up in the morning feeling happy. Truly happy. For a period of time, the joyous emotions were so overwhelming that I would cry. Not just a few tears either. I opened my eyes each morning, and felt such a dramatic reduction in pain that I bawled. It was a right I thought I'd never get back. <br />
<br />
The crying did not stop there. Life became dramatic- the sunlight caressing a tree a certain way would move me to tears. One day I was walking down the streets of Philadelphia with my sister and started crying without any sort of trigger. Luckily my sister was used to these reactions and told me to pull it together because we were about to walk into a pizza parlor to meet all her teammates. And it's best not to meet twenty girls on your sister's crew team when you're bawling your eyes out. Because then they'll want to know what's wrong and you'll have to tell them that nothing is wrong. In fact, things are wonderful. And they won't believe you and then you'll become that weird older dramatic sister that they try to avoid.<br />
<br />
Luckily I pulled it together and no one was the wiser.<br />
<br />
The frequency of these episodes has greatly been reduced over the past months. But they'll still happen if the trigger is good enough. <br />
<br />
Many people have been writing to me asking me if my pain is gone. I'm still undergoing intense prolotherapy treatments, but I feel they are helping. I am being patient and putting faith in my doctor and my body to heal itself. But I don't want to talk about that today.<br />
<br />
I remember years ago being so frustrated by all the depressing stories of women I found online. I realize now that writing is very therapeutic when you are struggling. People tend to stop when they are doing well. I think we just want to forget this ever happened to us and are anxious to go back to the way things used to be. This is of course impossible because we have been forever changed.<br />
<br />
I wanted to write this post to give strength to anyone fighting a difficult battle right now. I remember how hard it used to be. I remember hitting my arms, bruising them repeatedly to try and distract myself from the pain. I remember driving in the car and thinking how easy it would be to turn the wheel slightly and escape from the pain.<br />
<br />
I remember specific nights, crying on the floor, wondering how I was going to get through another day. If I only knew the happiness, the elation that I would feel just a year later. I couldn't whisper in my ear back then, so I'm whispering in your ear now.<br />
<br />
Whoever you are, wherever you are, whatever your battle, however long it's been happening, keep going. Keep going. You can't give up when you don't know what tomorrow will bring.Tamrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13788932363826493441noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6887629233710217681.post-77902162828997496132011-12-01T06:05:00.005-06:002015-05-03T10:20:48.199-05:00To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.I dreamed about writing a post like this for many years. Years, can you believe it? Whenever I have a moment to myself, old scenes flash before my eyes. They no longer haunt me, but I am still amazed they were lived through.<br />
<br />
I'm trying to explain how I feel right now, but words are failing me. Imagine being weighed down by a huge pack while climbing a mountain. (Did you expect anything else?) The pack is so heavy, you cannot even lift your head up. Bending forward, teeth clenched, you spend all your energy taking one step at a time, being careful not to trip over anything in your path. Sometimes you stop and think about how far you have to go and life seems hopeless. You wonder if it's even worth it anymore to continue to take it, to continue stepping forward. If you could just take your pack off, if you could just lighten the load, if you could just feel a release for a little while...<br />
<br />
Think about that burn in your legs, the ache in your back, the shortness of breath, and then imagine what it would be like to have your pack removed. Immediately, your back straightens and you realize how far from normal it was. With the weight now gone, you slowly regain your breath. Walking tall, you now lift your head and your eyes are just flooded with vistas of light. It is like you are seeing for the first time. You see everything around you and it all looks different. It does look like you are seeing it for the first time.<br />
<br />
You cannot help but reach out in front of you, just to make sure this is all really happening. As you continue to walk upward, you pause several times, checking to see if you are still carrying the weight, but you realize you just feel the ache of carrying it for so long. It's at that moment you understand how much weight you had been carrying this whole time, and what a toll it took on you. Life is now a second chance. It's a gift.<br />
<br />
My prolotherapy treatments are working. They really are. The release I feel is unbelievable. We still have a lot of work left, but every time I go my pain decreases less and less. I'm beginning to go every two weeks now in order to treat the front of my hips as well.<br />
<br />
I've been an emotional wreck recently because I am just so happy. I cannot contain it, I cannot hide it. It spills out of me in long waves. After my treatment last week, I cried for almost an hour in the recovery room with my dad and sister. I just could not stop and kept apologizing to them and the nurses who came in. It was like every bad thing that has happened to me needed to be released from my body. There's a lot that needs to leave. If you see me, don't be surprised if I start to tear up. In fact it's already happened in this coffee shop. Never did I understand what tears of happiness were until now. Every moment feels a bit dramatic. I just did not think I would ever feel this way again. It's as if life has said to me, "Welcome back."<br />
<br />Tamrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13788932363826493441noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6887629233710217681.post-23224759493765883852011-10-21T13:06:00.009-05:002015-05-03T08:05:37.124-05:00ButterfliesRecently we are having brilliant weather. The leaves are turning, and the sun is shining through them to create autumn kaleidoscopes. There are rolling clouds accompanied by a faint wind that is just breezy enough to fly a kite successfully (which is really all that matters). Comfy clothing is back, along with the savory scents of bread, pumpkin, and campfires.<br />
<br />
This weather just demands long winding drives, with open vistas of oranges, yellows, and reds amidst the green landscape. One day last week I was out cruising to wonderful music, making waves with my hand out the window, and all of a sudden a monarch butterfly flew directly in front of my car. For almost a minute we flew together, and I watched it gracefully dance as if by magic.<br />
<br />
The next day I went for a lumbar MRI, and on my way to the facility a monarch appeared again in front of my car. Even though I was miles from the previous location, I like to think it was the same butterfly. I will never forget the way their wings glowed, flooded by sunlight.<br />
<br />
I found out a few days later that my MRI came back clean. No obstruction in my lower back, vertebrae are in place, etc. I think this is the first clean MRI I have gotten back in four years. I was shocked. And then shocked that I was shocked. I have become so accustomed to the odds not being in my favor that I have adopted the wrong mindset.<br />
<br />
The even better news is I have been feeling less pain on most days. I do believe I feel my body healing itself. This is when I'm supposed to be noticing some relief from the prolotherapy, so I really think it is helping. Which makes it all worth it. I am still anxious about what's to come, but I'm holding steadfast to hope. My next treatment isn't until November 17th, so there's more time to notice improvement. When I stop to really think about it, I get choked up. There's been a few tears this week, only because I don't even know what I will do if this is the final stretch. That's a lie. I will go out dancing. I will run a marathon. I will climb everything. I will be carefree. I will be happy.<br />
<br />
I've been spending a lot of time reminiscing how far I've come. The constant in my life has always been my family and friends, who have stood by me no matter what. I have always been slow to trust and let people in, but these wonderful beings took the time to break down all my walls. I have been so much happier lately and have not needed to rely on them like I used to. It is so comforting to know I have people in my life who accept and love all parts of me. And who will be there for whatever lies ahead. I owe them everything. I stumbled upon this song a few days ago, and it's been playing nonstop. It's called Rely by Alex Cornish and it's here as a tribute to everyone who got me through this far.<br />
<br />
<object height="40" width="250"><param name="movie" value="http://grooveshark.com/songWidget.swf"><param name="wmode" value="window"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"><param name="flashvars" value="hostname=cowbell.grooveshark.com&songIDs=32758127&style=wood&p=0"><embed src="http://grooveshark.com/songWidget.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="hostname=cowbell.grooveshark.com&songIDs=32758127&style=wood&p=0" allowscriptaccess="always" wmode="window" height="40" width="250"></embed></object><br />
<br />
Right now I'm taking each day as it comes. I am anxiously awaiting decisions from physical therapy programs. I'm icing, stretching, and doing yoga on a regular basis. I'm working, taking classes, and enjoying every minute of fall. And of course, I'm always on the lookout for more butterflies.Tamrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13788932363826493441noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6887629233710217681.post-68038197260631619842011-10-08T19:32:00.002-05:002011-10-08T19:39:38.137-05:00Three's a charmThursday marked my third prolotherapy treatment and it went much better than anticipated. I'd like to say I walked in with a larger batch of courage, but I think it had a lot to do with the two Demerol injections I received at the office.<br /><br />But sure, let's say I was much better prepared this go around. Really, I was. I did yoga the day before to balance my chi. I had a fun, relaxing night. I woke up feeling confident and ready for the challenge ahead. I brought earphones and made a rockin' Beethoven playlist in the car. I did not take the Xanax and felt like myself. I walked in the office, on time, with a clear and steady mind. I was immediately brought back by the nurse where I signed the necessary paperwork, and then got a Demerol injection into my hip by my specialist. Both he and my super tall nurse remarked how bony my hips were and I smiled. Then, I took off my pants and put on the open-backed hospital gown, and positioned myself on the table. Then the whole crew came in- my dad, doctor, and the nurse and I was asked if I felt the Demerol. I did not feel much of a difference, so I received a second injection into my hip, and then we began.<br /><br />I put on my headphones and transported myself into a different place of symphonies and high vaulted concert halls and standing ovations. My dad and I also worked on my breathing, which I was able to control this time. In all honesty, the whole process went very smoothly. Yes I still felt pain, but it was nothing compared to the previous two times. In fact, I was in high spirits and attempting a few jokes. We tried to take pictures of all the long needles sticking out of my butt and hips so I could feel like a badass. Or a pin cushion. Now you see why I was only attempting jokes. Don't worry, pictures will never go up here.<br /><br />We went a bit longer than the previous two treatments, around an hour and fifteen minutes. I think we tackled more spots in different locations, especially my lower back- lumbar area specifically. I'm hopeful that this all might be working because examination felt better in certain area we hit aggressively last time. Soon I will also be getting an MRI of my lower back to see if there are any nerve structure issues. The doctor wants this new information to better treat me in the future. I also received my first treatments on the anterior portion of my body. Using very small needles, Dr. Magaziner injected all of my hip scars, as well as my two long pelvis scars.<br /><br />I feel the need to reiterate how well the treatment went. I was on quite the high because I felt I was ahead for once. It was the same feeling I get after reaching a summit. Nothing can touch you.<br /><br />The Demerol did not make me hazy and I still felt I had control over myself. Unfortunately the side effects of Demerol include nausea, so I went to lie down in the room next door after we were finished. I did not get sick, and the doctor quickly injected my hip with some anti-nausea medication.<br /><br />Back at home, I got in bed and put some ice on all the areas that were injected. I was very sore, especially feeling pain in my lower back and hips. Bending over was definitely not an option. I rested in bed all day, and spent most of the time sleeping off the Demerol. When I woke up in the morning, I still felt a lot of pain in my hips and lower back, making it difficult to move around. So the recovery was a bit more difficult than previous times. But I woke up today (two days later) feeling almost as good as new. The important things were to lay down, rest, and ice.<br /><br />It's been a pretty crazy week. Monday I was in the emergency room for a terrible terrible ear injection. I missed my second anatomy lecture because of it. I'm frustrated how much my body continues to fight against me, but I try to remain levelheaded. Some days I just want to burst. I'm tired of being stuck- I want to wake up and go for a run. I want to go out and dance. I want to play tennis. I want to climb. I want to push my body and embrace it. But I know I must stay patient and wait and heal and work through it.<br /><br />I can do this. I can do this. We can do this. Some days we walk ablaze with hope, and some days we just continue.<br /><br />If you are in need of some hope, I've got a great dose of it right here: A young deaf woman hears for the first time. Imagine what it will be like to feel healthy again and let's keep on together.<br /><br /><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/WlSOtH9BrRk?fs=1" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" width="480"></iframe>Tamrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13788932363826493441noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6887629233710217681.post-60087427823843140662011-10-03T11:40:00.002-05:002011-10-03T11:44:32.519-05:00From the book: Poems to Live by in Uncertain Times<span style="font-weight: bold;">September </span><br /><br />by Jennifer Michael Hecht<br /><br />Tonight there must be people who are getting what they want.<br />I let my oars fall into the water.<br />Good for them. Good for them, getting what they want.<br /><br />The night is so still that I forget to breathe.<br />The dark air is getting colder. Birds are leaving.<br /><br />Tonight there are people getting just what they need.<br /><br />The air is so still that it seems to stop my heart.<br />I remember you in a black and white photograph<br />taken this time of some year. You were leaning against<br />a half-shed tree, standing in the leaves the tree had lost.<br /><br />When I finally exhale it takes forever to be over.<br /><br />Tonight, there are people who are so happy,<br />that they have forgotten to worry about tomorrow.<br /><br />Somewhere, people have entirely forgotten about tomorrow.<br />My hand trails in the water.<br />I should not have dropped those oars. Such a soft wind.Tamrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13788932363826493441noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6887629233710217681.post-83799088729903954982011-09-26T16:05:00.002-05:002015-05-03T10:20:27.741-05:00A Rumi night<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
To dance is not to jump to your feet at once<br />
and rise painlessly in the air like dust.<br />
To rise above both worlds<br />
is to dance in the blood of your pain<br />
and give up your life.</div>
Tamrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13788932363826493441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6887629233710217681.post-2115834832782226232011-09-19T12:53:00.002-05:002015-05-03T08:06:56.711-05:00To Joy<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
"Joyful, as a hero going to conquest<br />
As truth's fiery reflection<br />
It smiles at the scientist<br />
To virtue's steep hill<br />
It leads the sufferer on<br />
Atop faith's lofty summit."</div>
<br />
Beethoven has been my constant companion these past months. If you remember, it all started this summer when I blasted his 9th on the way to class every day. I stand by my statement that it is impossible to be in a bad mood when listening to Ode to Joy. Here try:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/bDsx7XA-W54/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/bDsx7XA-W54?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
<br />
This performance occurred during the last night of the Proms, days after 9/11. You do not even have to watch, simply close your eyes and feel the tribute, the resilience, and above all, the exultation. Since the beginning of this summer I have listened to Beethoven's 9th at least once a day, usually more. And for 27 minutes, nothing else exists. It doesn't make me forget what I'm going through, but rather delivers the important message that life is worth living. Some days I like to think Beethoven himself is urging me to keep going. I'm halfway through his biography and read a few of his letters before I go to sleep. Let me tell you, Beethoven knows. He was a man who suffered much pain, who refused to take pain medicine because it would change him and hinder his musical prowess. Would his music be so mesmerizing if it did not spring from a dark place? His struggle is a testament to his commitment to life and reminds me that there are glorious moments worth fighting for. Somedays they might only last 27 minutes, but they are there.<br />
<br />
I have been through two rounds of prolotherapy treatments, with the next one coming up in two weeks. I will be frank; they are absolutely awful. It's taken me so long to write about them because they are painful and by far the most difficult obstacle I've had to face. The first treatment in August went poorly because I walked in unprepared and overconfident. I thought I could tolerate any pain without difficulty. I was proven wrong very quickly. My mom and I went early on a Thursday morning, so I would be the first appointment of the day, and could rest the entire weekend before I had class again Monday night. We walked into my specialist office and were brought into the back room, where he conveniently has the equipment set up for prolotherapy treatments. My mom put on a heavy xray gown, while I undressed and put on a thin cotton hospital gown. I laid down on the table, belly down, and the tall attending nurse came over and asked me how I was doing. I smiled at her, and told her I was fine and have been through a lot worse. She did not say much more, but reminded me she had stress balls I could squeeze during the procedure. I thought she was being sweet, but was underestimating me.<br />
<br />
My specialist came in and shook my hand and asked me if I was ready to begin. I might have smiled and gave him an enthusiastic, "let's do this!" He then began pressing my hips and legs and butt, looking for the painful areas and marking them with a blue marker. This unsettled me slightly because there were so many spots, and it was a reminder of how much pain I carry. After the markings, he said we were going to begin by numbing the area. Taking small needles, he goes to work right away, placing them in all the spots he's marked, moving quickly. I watch the xray machine in front of me, seeing the needles go in, and noting all the bones I have recently learned in anatomy class. This process shakes me up a bit, because the numbing medicine hurts going into the trigger points. The trigger points are bad enough by themselves, so they don't take well to invading needles. After the numbing, we begin the actual treatment, of injecting medicine into the same spots to cause heavy inflammation, hopefully triggering natural growth factors in my body. And this point is where I lost my nerve. The marking and numbing takes around 5 minutes, leaving around 45- 50 minutes of injecting needles repeatedly into my body. It hurts. I cannot even describe the pain. I feel the numbing needles have done nothing because I feel everything. In reality, I know I could be feeling worse pain, but this thought doesn't cross my mind. A few injections in, he accidentally hits my sciatic nerve and my whole leg shakes in anger. I cried out in pain, and lost whatever confidence I had after that. The nurse silently brought over the stress balls, and I took them in each hand and squeezed. My mom watched, shifting between holding my hand, patting my head, and holding my gaze. I could not have done it without her. And I know it must have been the most difficult thing for her, to watch me in such incredible pain. I felt guilty that she was being strong for me, and I couldn't be the same for her. The treatment carries on, and I still attempt to hold it together. Sometimes sounds escape from me, which I have no control. I whimper a bit, but I refuse to cry, to lose it completely in front of this doctor. Because even though he is a wonderful and talented man, he is my enemy for that hour. I have no choice but to direct my anger and frustration to him. And I refuse to let him win and see me upset. Partway through, he is concerned and asks me if I need a break, need to cry, need to stop for the day and do the second half of my body at a different time. I spit back that I am fine and let's keep moving. I take a one minute break around halfway through the treatment, and try to focus on my breathing. The rest of the treatment drags on, and after an hour it is finally over. I feel a bit light-headed and cannot get up right away. Since so much anesthetic is used, this is a normal reaction. Slowly, the compassionate nurse and my mom help me up. The nurse tells me how brave I was and how very few people have to go through something that long and intense over so much of their body. I slowly shuffle to the room next door and lie down for a second. The doctor wants me to stay there until I feel less light-headed, but all I want to do is get out of there. I am going to lose control any minute, so I quickly tell my mom to help me get dressed and we exit the building immediately. She opens the car door for me, and helps me lie down in the back, and then sits down in the front and turns back to look at me. She is concerned and I want to tell her it's okay, but instead I tell her I'm sorry and then the floodgates break. I ask her to plug my ipod in and soon classical music drifts through the car. I cry and cry and cry. I cry out in pain, I cry for having to go through something so awful, I cry because I do not know when it will end, I cry because I wanted to be braver, I cry because it feels right and because I need to.<br />
<br />
I get home and am carefully helped up to my room and lay in bed, icing the inflamed area. It hurts, but I am in not much more pain than I am used to on a daily basis. The worst is definitely over. My backside is covered up by gauze, and we check to make sure the sites are clean and not infected. It takes a few days before I feel better, and I carefully walk around and try not to sit. All the places where I was injected bruise, and my butt looks like a glorified black and blue pin cushion.<br />
<br />
I don't know if it would have helped me to read an account of the treatment before I went, but I wanted to write this down in case anyone wanted to be better prepared. I wish I could say the second treatment two weeks ago was easier. This time I went with my dad, who is also a pillar of strength and support. I felt a bit more prepared this time, but I was still very anxious the night before and morning of. This time the doctor had me take Xanax for my nerves, but I did not like the affects. I don't like taking medicine to begin with because of my awful experiences with mood shifting in the past. I already don't have control over my body, I do not want to lose myself as well. I know how Beethoven must have felt. But I took it to try, but I think the affects were opposite what they should have been. I remember walking into the waiting area of the office and getting extremely anxious that the carpet wasn't vacuumed. I saw pieces of white fuzz everywhere, and back in the treatment room, I turned to my dad and told him I couldn't go through with it. I told him the carpet was filthy, and why couldn't they have cleaned it and maybe this place wasn't professional and maybe we were making a mistake, and why were we here in the first place?? He calmed me down and we worked on some breathing and then he tried to take me to a different place. "Picture going hiking with your friend," he said. "You're up in the mountains, the sun is shining, you're..." "Dad, stop," I barked back. "It's not working." I could not bring myself to leave that room. I don't need to talk about the treatment again, it went just like the last one, minus hitting the sciatic nerve. I know it affected my father deeply. I am so blessed to have such a strong family and group of friends who can support me. I don't know what I would have done without him in the room. I know it was hard for him. He had difficulty holding himself up during the treatment and had to leave the room for a few minutes to lie down. His blood pressure dropped from watching me in so much pain. I know he's embarrassed that he showed weakness, but it actually gave me even more strength. It validated the pain I was going through. Later, after the treatment was over, he turned to me in the car and told me in his short, but powerful way that he did not know many people who could go through what I did. We are going together to the next treatment in October, and I think we'll both do better. The doctor wants to try an injection before I begin for anxiety since the Xanax did not work. I told him I'd like to bring my speakers and play Beethoven during the hour. There are many things that can transcend the power of medicine.<br />
<br />
One of the best things I have done since I last wrote is become more open about my feelings. Too often I turn in and tackle my dark moments alone, blocking everyone out. I have so many people who want to help, who want to be there. I find myself struggling in telling them how I really feel because I find it's a large burden. They constantly tell me it isn't, but I cannot help how I feel. Sometimes I feel so separated from everyone, and have almost an out-of-body experience. I'll be talking or hanging out with family or friends and what we're doing will seem so trivial and pointless. Or I'll get angry listening to someone talking about their "normal life." I know I've become bitter and I know that everyone has their own struggles in life. No one is normal and we all carry around baggage. I have found that when I reveal how I really feel to those around me, I feel much better. One time in particular last week, I broke down in front of a dear friend. I was originally going to lock myself in my room, lie in the dark listening to my music, and writing a post, but chose to be vulnerable instead. I was so relieved after sharing my fears, and felt stronger instantly. Another friend reminded me recently that I have so many people around me who want to help carry the weight. That it's okay to share it. I am learning so much about friendship.<br />
<br />
I have pages and pages in my notebook of other things I want to say, but they will be for another time. I've included a link below of a translation of Freidrich Schiller's "To Joy" poem, written in 1785, that Beethoven so beautifully put to music in his 9th symphony. This is the poem in its entirety, only sections are sung in the chorale section.<br />
http://raptusassociation.org/ode1785.html<br />
There are so many good lines about overcoming the dark, and celebrating the light. Enjoy. And as always, keep fighting.<br />
<br />
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">
"Endure courageously, millions!<br />
Endure for the better world."</div>
Tamrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13788932363826493441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6887629233710217681.post-15186282636044851832011-07-27T15:57:00.002-05:002011-07-27T16:01:03.752-05:00Mary Oliver knows all<h1></h1><p><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dogfish</span></span><br /></p><p>Some kind of relaxed and beautiful thing<br />kept flickering in with the tide<br />and looking around.<br />Black as a fisherman's boot,<br />with a white belly.<br /><br />If you asked for a picture I would have to draw a smile<br />under the perfectly round eyes and above the chin,<br />which was rough<br />as a thousand sharpened nails.<br /><br />And you know<br />what a smile means,<br />don't you?<br /><br />*<br /><br />I wanted the past to go away, I wanted<br />to leave it, like another country; I wanted<br />my life to close, and open<br />like a hinge, like a wing, like the part of the song<br />where it falls<br />down over the rocks: an explosion, a discovery;<br />I wanted<br />to hurry into the work of my life; I wanted to know,<br /><br />whoever I was, I was<br /><br />alive<br />for a little while.<br /><br />*<br /><br />It was evening, and no longer summer.<br />Three small fish, I don't know what they were,<br />huddled in the highest ripples<br />as it came swimming in again, effortless, the whole body<br />one gesture, one black sleeve<br />that could fit easily around<br />the bodies of three small fish.<br /><br />*<br /><br />Also I wanted<br />to be able to love. And we all know<br />how that one goes,<br />don't we?<br /><br />Slowly<br /><br />*<br /><br />the dogfish tore open the soft basins of water.<br /><br />*<br /><br />You don't want to hear the story<br />of my life, and anyway<br />I don't want to tell it, I want to listen<br /><br />to the enormous waterfalls of the sun.<br /><br />And anyway it's the same old story - - -<br />a few people just trying,<br />one way or another,<br />to survive.<br /><br />Mostly, I want to be kind.<br />And nobody, of course, is kind,<br />or mean,<br />for a simple reason.<br /><br />And nobody gets out of it, having to<br />swim through the fires to stay in<br />this world.<br /><br />*<br /><br />And look! look! look! I think those little fish<br />better wake up and dash themselves away<br />from the hopeless future that is<br />bulging toward them.<br /><br />*<br /><br />And probably,<br />if they don't waste time<br />looking for an easier world,<br /><br />they can do it.</p> <p><b>Mary Oliver</b></p>Tamrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13788932363826493441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6887629233710217681.post-63558650171495086882011-07-27T13:49:00.008-05:002015-05-03T08:07:35.907-05:00lostI am sitting in a cafe right now. Directly in front of me, no more than four feet, is an old woman in a wheelchair. Her head is tilted to the side, and she looks so small in the midst of all the whirling customers traveling past. You can see her pain in the lines of her face and small openings of her eyes. Yet she is sitting there with a vibrant red, pink, and orange shirt, crisp white pants, a few strands of pearls, and a diamond bracelet. She is trying so hard to maintain a collected and confident exterior. We locked eyes for a few brief moments and something transpired. We had a mutual understanding and for those few seconds, the rest of the coffee shop did not exist. She revealed her suffering and hopelessness, and I revealed mine. Our exchange was interrupted by her friend sitting down with a small cup of coffee and sandwich. Hands shaking, the old woman reached down to take a bite, and couldn't raise it up to her mouth. Without hesitation, her friend touched her gently on the wrist and brought her arm up so she could eat. They continued this way in rhythm, the friend stopping occasionally to brush the crumbs off the old woman's shirt. It was as if they had been doing things this way always.<br />
<br />
I came to this coffee shop first to study for a physics exam, but soon realized it would be fruitless unless I tried to put my frustrations and emotions on internet paper. I had an appointment early Monday morning with a new specialist, but have been unable to process the information because of a heavy exam week. Everything is still pent-up inside, and I just can't bring myself to release. With only two weeks left before summer term, I cannot have any setbacks.<br />
<br />
Under direction by my PT, I saw <a href="http://dremagaziner.com/">Dr. Magaziner</a> of North Brunswick. I was discharged from PT a few weeks ago because the iontophoresis and laser stim therapy were not working. Dr. Magaziner is well-known for his use of regenerative medicine to fight chronic pain. We went over my case history, which took quite some time, and then he physically examined me to determine where my pain was directly located. We found an incredible amount of trigger points ranging from my hips to my entire pelvic floor. The main muscles in my glutes were by far the worst. He wanted to try prolotherapy with me immediately, and believed that it could really put "a dent" in my pain with 7 or 8 treatments. I asked him where I ranked as far as severeness of cases, and he said I was in the more complex percent because of the many locations my pain stems from. I am rather new to the idea of prolotherapy, so I'll give a quick summary for others who may be considering it.<br />
<br />
Prolotherapy involves a series of injections to trigger points that causes tissue inflammation. This inflammation is supposed to trigger your body's natural healing process, by bringing in growth factors to the area to then repair the site. You can read more here:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.dremagaziner.com/treatment-therapies/prolotherapy-prolo/">http://www.dremagaziner.com/treatments-therapies/prolotherapy-prolo/</a><br />
<br />
Dr. Magaziner thinks I will need at least 7 or 8 treatments bilaterally, since my case is so involved, and the injections will take place once a month. He estimates they will take about an hour. We also went over pain levels to the procedure. Since I have so many areas that need to be injected and since I am doing the injections bilaterally instead of one side at a time, I will experience a good amount of pain, for up to 6 days after the procedure. He promised to write me notes for classes that will allow me to stand up, since sitting down will not be an option after injections. After 8 months of so, he then wants to do PRP injections, a step above prolotherapy, to the more severe parts of my body that need healing, specifically hips and groin (sites of all three of my surgeries.)<br />
<br />
As I said, it was a lot of information to take in right away. I am excited to start new treatment, but as always, I am approaching with a side of caution. I have been promised relief many times, and right now my pain is worse than ever. And even though I've had much experience in handling pain, I am not looking forward to 8 months of fighting. The first treatment is scheduled in two weeks, and I am anxious about how it will feel and affect me. It's also frustrating that for the next year I will again have to rely on family and friends to take me for the treatments and take care of me when I am home. I am tired of being cared for. I got very emotional watching the old woman in front of me because I can put myself in her shoes. I know how difficult it is to maintain a presentable appearance when you are struggling so much and reluctantly relying on people around you.<br />
<br />
The more time that passes by, the more I feel cold, hardened, depressed, and reclusive. I used to be able to talk more about how I feel, but now I am hiding away and ignoring human contact. It's hard to witness so many people advancing in their lives, romantically and professionally. I am even beginning to feel apathetic to other people's struggles because I am so tied to my own. The feeling are not healthy, but I don't really know what the solution is at this point.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">If you could but see this rage inside of me</span><br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">I could shake these stars to dust</span><br />
<br />
I wrote those lines a few weeks ago, but they grow more appropriate daily. I apologize profusely for the lack of email responses. I hope you can see I am just trying to keep myself up right now. However, if you have any experiences with prolotherapy, prp, or other regenerative medicine, please comment to this post. Or if you have any encouraging words, poems, or thoughts, this would also be a good place (and time) for them.Tamrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13788932363826493441noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6887629233710217681.post-40697540193401845692011-07-16T11:46:00.000-05:002011-07-16T11:46:56.255-05:00On repeat<iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/k35haKwqY14?fs=1" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="295" width="480"></iframe><br />Gillian Welch - Hard TimesTamrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13788932363826493441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6887629233710217681.post-79828738826051191142011-07-03T09:05:00.010-05:002015-05-03T08:09:33.604-05:00Green lightMainly because I got a 98 on my bones practical this past week and found a women's climbing poetry book at the greatest used bookstore ever.<br />
<br />If you are ever in a foul mood, take a trip up to Paramus, NJ to the enormous Barnes and Noble and saunter back to their enormous used book section. Instant pain relief. If you need more of a distraction, continue up route 17 to the sushi cafe in Ho-Ho-Kus. Be sure to blast Beethoven's 9th. I'm pretty sure anything can be fixed by the 4th movement. Then, drive less than 2 miles more to the town of Ridgewood, where there is delicious blueberry and cookies and cream ice cream. And an enchanting park where a little boy triumphantly jumped on a large rock to shout, "HEY EVERYBODY!!!!! I JUST CAUGHT TWO FIREFLIES!!!" Thank you little boy for reminding me about magical moments in life.<br />
<br />
I also had a swinging time last weekend (before the ER disaster) at the Jazz Picnic on Governor's Island in NYC. A true Gatsby affair, it's happening again this Aug. 20 and 21st. If you do anything this summer, you must do this. It's a perfect opportunity to dress up, travel back in time, and recreate yourself. Isn't that the beauty of dressing up? You can be anyone. You can have any story.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
This week was rather rough because of the several doctor visits to figure out the source of the severe allergy reaction. I still remain a medical mystery. Boy, if I had a nickel...<br />
<br />
I start allergy testing and shots in two weeks. Maybe we'll get some answers. My sitting pain also greatly increased this week- I spent a lot of time laying down in bed with ice packs. I had difficulty getting through classes and stood for a lot of the time. In anatomy lab, I stayed after with my teacher to learn more about the pelvic floor muscles, since we're not going over them in class. I'm soaking up all this information because I am certain I will figure this out one day. Piece by piece, I am learning. I know now that my ischium hurts like crazy, (specifically this small process next to the ischial tuberosity that I cannot find a name for anywhere.) I think I am seeing a new specialist in NJ that my PT recommends who does a lot with damaged tissue and imaging.</div>
<br />
I remembered this week how important it is to do things you love, especially when you are in a lot of pain and frustrated beyond belief. Go outside and catch some fireflies. When I was watching them last night, glowing in the distance, the 1920's still on my mind, I remembered one of my favorite parts of The Great Gatsby. Somehow I have lost my copy- next trip to the used bookstore must change that. (unless I have some readers with extra copies?) I need to re-read this asap. Luckily you can find anything on the Internet. Does anyone remember his obsession with the light at the end of Daisy's dock? We are first introduced to it in Chapter 1:<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">"[Gatsby gazed at] a single green light, minute and faraway, that might have been the end of a dock."</span><br />
As well as the last chapter, last paragraph:<span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span><br />
<div style="font-style: italic;">
"Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter — to-morrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And one fine morning ——</div>
<div style="font-style: italic;">
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."</div>
<br />
I find myself staring out at the green light often. It always seems within reach, if I can only cross the lake to get to it. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Beat on everyone.</span></div>
Tamrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13788932363826493441noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6887629233710217681.post-77096701316001894282011-06-27T22:18:00.003-05:002011-06-27T22:43:52.934-05:00[/rant]I'm really good at being sick. Right now I feel my full-time job is keeping my body together in one piece. No one wants that.<br /><br />I'm so sick of writing emails to professors and dropping out of commitments last minute. The worst is no one ever gives me a hard time. It feels like everyone just understands that this is my life. I don't like those low expectations. I want responsibility. I want a routine. I want boring days. I want to stop writing and ranting.<br /><br />I went for a run yesterday afternoon. The same route in my neighborhood I've done for countless weeks now. Let me tell you- I was killing that route too. Down to 8:30 miles for a 2.5 course, with plenty of energy at the end to do an extra mile loop. Killing it. Yesterday I jumped in the pool after my run, as I always do. All of a sudden I could not stop itching my face. Then I felt it change and it started to hurt badly from all the pressure of the swelling. All of my lymph system swelled up and turned bright red. My sister made her first 911 call. Turns out ambulances take forever, so we jumped in the car and raced to the ER. Also turns out when your face is swelling up like a large watermelon, you get seen right away. I got on an IV with a heavy duty cocktail of steroids and benedryl (by one of the hottest nurses ever I might add.) In fact, I was almost high enough from all the medication to start asking him how many patients told him he was beautiful every day.<br /><br />I got discharged a few hours later, and rushed home to get my psych paper in on time for an online class. I hate the way medication changes you so quickly. The steroids were giving me severe mood swings, the benedryl made me tired and unintelligent. It brought back bad memories of college and being on different medications and having people come over to help me write and type my papers. I thought I'd never have to be that helpless again.<br /><br />Today I saw my primary doctor and made an appointment with the allergist tomorrow. I'm under strict orders not to go outside. My primary told me I really need to stop having weird things happen to me. I had another small outbreak just from going to the car to get the doctors this morning. My body seems to be on high alert for any allergens, thus the bubble girl status. I did not feel well today so I had to let my professor know I couldn't take my anatomy exam tonight. Tomorrow I have two big tests, and there's no option to stay home. Summer classes, especially science classes are almost impossible to miss.<br /><br />We now have to stop the laser stim and the iontophoresis treatments at physical therapy until we figure out what's going on. So once again, my main problems get put on the back burner. When the triage nurse at the hospital asked me if I had any preexisting conditions or any surgeries done, I just stared at her with the typical puppy dog eyes. I am so sick of hospitals. I had to tell Mr. Hot RN exactly what vein to put the IV in because the rest tend to move. You're not supposed to know these things when you're 23. I'm supposed to be worrying about moving out of my parents' house and getting into good dpt programs and where I'm going to meet my next boyfriend. At this point, I am only concerned with making it through the day in as little pain and medical drama as possible. I want more.<br /><br />[/endrant]<br /><br />PS. I need a hug.Tamrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13788932363826493441noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6887629233710217681.post-5258917117869125802011-06-18T09:07:00.003-05:002011-06-18T09:31:42.078-05:00things you should know- I'm still alive.<br />- I'm in the middle of the busiest summer of my life, taking classes and getting ready for PT programs.<br />- I'm currently memorizing all the bones of the body.<br />- I go to physical therapy twice a week. Started laser stim and iontophoresis for my piriformis. I'm only on my second treatment, but will write more detail if they have an effect.<br />- I run every day. Far. I lost a lot of weight. I lift every other day. I want to run a half marathon next year. Exercise is my free time away from the stress of class.<br />- My increased exercise fires up my piriformis muscles even more. Sitting in classes all day is so difficult. But I don't want to talk to my professors about it or my classmates. It was much easier at my undergrad college to make connections and explain myself. Now I'd rather push through.<br />- Exercise makes me happy. Being strong makes me happy. I'm not going to stop, even if it would reduce my daily pain. Physical pain < mental pain<br />- I might be getting a PRP (platelet rich plasma) injection in August in the piriformis region. It takes your blood, converts it to plasma, and puts it back into the problem area to help damaged tissues. It's experimental in that region. I have to wait until I am off iontophoresis before I can get it done.<br />- We still have no idea why my piriformis muscles are so hypersensitive and tight. I think it's by far my underlying problem because it's increased pain levels affect every area around it.<br />- I'm going back to Dr. Kellogg on Monday to get more injections in the vulvar region, hoping we can at least get that issue back on track.<br />- The world is full of so many chairs without cushions. I hate hardwood chairs.<br />- I read each and every one of your emails. I do. I haven't responded for a few months now because it's a little too much to handle. But please remember I'm here, fighting with you.Tamrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13788932363826493441noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6887629233710217681.post-67955542054054844882011-05-03T20:29:00.002-05:002011-05-03T20:51:32.085-05:00StruggleDo you know reader how many times I have ended up here on the floor, trapped in my body?<br />Do you know how desperately I try to keep going?<br />There are some nights I don't have the strength.<br />I want to talk, but this is all I know how to do. This, and pushing people away.<br /><br />I wanted to drive far away today. To find where the road ends. But I've already tried that.<br />Did you know it just goes on and on and on?Tamrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13788932363826493441noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6887629233710217681.post-58314949401335060502011-05-02T23:07:00.000-05:002011-05-02T23:08:37.315-05:00pain, pain go away.<br />I need to be able to sit through my classes.Tamrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13788932363826493441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6887629233710217681.post-71179176547787932552011-04-30T15:49:00.003-05:002015-05-03T10:21:30.220-05:00Elation<div style="text-align: center;">
I played tennis yesterday for the first time in over a year.<br />
I've been running and lifting and pushing my body to remember what it used to be.<br />
The elation is indescribable.<br />
I am smiling, on average, 250% more per day.<br />
I feel the urgent need to run out into a big open field, throw my hands up, and spin around in the rain, the coolness of each drop matched with this burning spirit.<br />
<br />
For the first time since this all started, there is no anticipation of another surgery or another big step. No more knocking me down before I've stood up again. This is it.<br />
<br />
I am slowly reclaiming myself back.</div>
Tamrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13788932363826493441noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6887629233710217681.post-43456758642620434542011-04-17T20:21:00.005-05:002015-05-03T10:21:55.694-05:00Tree DanceWhenever the weight is too much,<br />
<div class="im">
when I am overflowing<br />
with ghosts and emotions,<br />
I sit in the park to watch the trees.<br />
<br />
Dark against a setting sky,<br />
their melodic rhythm in the wind<br />
slowly settles my mind</div>
and I drift to some other place.<br />
<br />
Back and forth they rock,<br />
graceful and rooted, the wind reminding them to sway<br />
and me to breathe.<br />
<br />
But as the moon rises<br />
over their outstretched branches,<br />
casting light upon their dance,<br />
I no longer need breath.<br />
<br />
O moon, shine upon this darkened soul.<br />
O trees, calm this unsettled heart.<br />
Fix me.<br />
Heal me.Tamrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13788932363826493441noreply@blogger.com1