November Challenge Post #19: A Difficult Time In My Life

 

In the summer of 2005, I began having severe pain in my left shoulder. Moving it hurt. Lying on it hurt, too. By the time school started, I was having trouble moving it to dress myself. The pain was intense. If I bumped my arm in any way, a white-hot knife shot through my shoulder and almost made me collapse.

At some point I saw a doctor and was diagnosed with a possible torn rotator cuff. At some later point, the diagnosis changed, and I was re-diagnosed with adhesive capsulitis, or frozen shoulder. I was sent to physical therapy for a little while, but no gains were made, and the pain got progressively worse. Nothing was helping, and I was trying very hard to teach every day and be a mother and a wife (and a new blogger) and survive this pain, which was relentless.

I was prescribed Vicodin, but it wasn't helping. Like my father did, I have a very high tolerance level for narcotics. One martini gets me drunk, but two Vicodin do nothing but make me feel a bit sleepy. After a day of Vicodin, the next day they may as well be Skittles. I was sent to a pain management doctor who gave me a pain block that did absolutely nothing. 

Physical therapy was deemed pointless. I was unable to move my arm, frantic with pain, and trying to teach and serve on the committee to choose new textbooks for the English departments for the entire district. I couldn't even drive myself to and from school. I was exhausted.

The doctor decided to put me on oxycontin. And then my life completely fell apart in little pieces, bit by bit.

I have little to no memory of my life at that point. I would take prescription strength ibuprofen during the day so that I could teach. The moment I got home, I would put on my pajamas, take my oxycontin, and hit the couch. I have no idea if I ever made meals, ate them, or what. I mean, I'm sure I must have retained some semblance of my normal life, but I don't remember it. When I ask my husband about it, he says, "We managed just fine." Jared and Sam were busy with their own lives, working and going to school, but I know it affected them, too. They don't say anything about it, either. 

I don't remember Thanksgiving. I don't remember Christmas shopping. I know I was far too unwell to host my usual big family Christmas Eve. I don't remember Christmas. I was a wreck. That drug destroyed every system of my body. Narcotics are notorious for disrupting your normal digestive system's rhythm, and mine was simply nonfunctioning. I was merely existing to work and then come home and take a pill to quell the pain. I do remember at one point telling Rick that I couldn't go on, that this was no Life anymore. That I didn't recognize my life and I couldn't do it one more day.  I remember him sitting next to me on the couch and pleading with me not to give up.

Finally, my shoulder pain began to ease up. I don't remember if it was in February or March or when. I decided to take myself off of the oxycontin, so I just stopped taking it one day. A few hours later I was nauseated and shaking. I felt jumpy and over-caffeinated, and my heart was racing. I don't remember how it came about, but I called the doctor's office and told the nurse I had stopped taking the drug that day. I was told that what I had done was dangerous, and that I needed to take it immediately and have someone drive me to the office. Somehow I got there and was given a step-down schedule to wean myself off the oxycontin. I had no idea that I was, for all intents and purposes, an addict. My brain was addicted even if I, Nance, wasn't. I was angry and confused. 

I wanted my life back now. I didn't want to wait.

I don't remember the step-down, how long it took. Huge chunks of my memory are just Gone. I don't know if they are a biological casualty of oxycontin, or an emotional casualty of my psyche protecting itself. But it's all gone.

And I'm still a bit angry about that.

I got frozen shoulder again in 2008, in the other shoulder. They misdiagnosed it again as a torn rotator cuff, and they actually had me in surgery before they discovered their mistake. That time it was a much less severe case, and I took nothing stronger than naproxyn. 

Obviously, this was a terribly difficult time in my life, and difficult to share. Thank you for making me feel like I can, here, with you.

I hope you feel as if you can share a difficult time with me, either here or via my email, which you can find in my sidebar.

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