Pain is Real.

Last semester I took a psychopathology class. Around December I was wavering between getting a degree in Psychology and then a degree in OT or just getting my Master’s in OT, but that class pretty much made me want to run away from the psych field. Maybe it’s because I could relate to so much of what we talked about, either directly or indirectly…but I felt uncomfortable and uneasy when I sat in that classroom each day.

One topic was Somatoform Disorders, AKA having physical symptoms in the absence of actual physical damage or change. Essentially what my Prof said was that a patient with a somatoform disorder is expressing his or her desires in a way that would be acceptable to society (if someone wants to be taken care of, they will become ill so that they have a reason to be babied and nursed back to health). Okay, fine. Somatoform disorders can and do happen, and they are a part of psychology. But there can be other explanations as well.

When we got to the types of somatoform disorders section, guess what made the list? You’ve got it…pain disorders. The definition he gave for this? “Pain without or beyond what is appropriate from a physical standpoint.” Hmm…sounds similar to RSD/CRPS, only the fact that he presented it as being a somatoform disorder implies that to him, the pain is all in one’s head and not real.

While I do understand that there is the possibility that someone may be having pain related to psychological conflict or issues, the way my Professor presented it, he seemed to imply that rather than it being simply a possibility, we are to view psychological problems as the probability. Basically, in his mind, the patient is faking it until physically proven otherwise.

I have seen and heard about way too many doctors brushing off their patients’ complaints and telling them their pain is all in their head, when really, it was RSD or another very real problem. It really bothers me that this Professor, who is infusing knowledge into the brains of many people who will go on to become doctors or clinical psychologists, thinks and teaches in this way. He said that in order to believe that someone is in pain, he has to see that there is physically wrong. How ignorant.

Another part about this discussion that bothered me was the fact that he, along with the rest of the class, knew that I have RSD/CRPS, a chronic pain disorder. Does that mean he thought I was faking it, and it’s all in my head? There is a good likelihood that he had that thought, despite the fact that my foot is swollen and crazy colors. Even if he didn’t think that was the case, some of my classmates might have chalked my pain disorder up to psychological problems. Again, ignorant.

But really, the issue isn’t a matter of whether or not you can see it. Because a person with a body part that looks “normal” like my left foot can be in just as much pain as someone with one that looks swollen and discolored like the right foot. It bothers me when people are so quick to discount the fact that people are in genuine pain, and instead say that they are crazy or their pain cannot possibly be as bad as they describe.

Friends, pain is real. Just because you are not in someone’s body to feel their pain (and you should be grateful that you aren’t…) does not mean that it doesn’t exist. You will never know what it’s like to be someone else and to feel what they feel, but the least you can do is have compassion toward them. Believe them when they say that they aren’t feeling well or they are in pain, because most likely, they are in even more pain than they say.

I sometimes do wish that everyone could spend one day in the shoes of a chronic pain patient, just to see what it’s like. The physical pain, emotional pain of people not believing you, and the adjustments that must be made in order to live a semi-normal life. Maybe then they would get it. Maybe then they would understand that we don’t like living this way, we don’t make up this pain. Because honestly, if you could wave a magic wand over me and have my body restored to complete health, I wouldn’t even think twice before saying yes.

People of the world, please think long and hard before telling someone that their pain is fake or “all in their head.” Whether you’re a friend, a parent, a doctor, or a random person on the street, give people the benefit of the doubt and extend to them them the gift of believing them, and of believing in them. This isn’t an easy road to travel, but those who are willing to walk alongside us and believe our pain do help carry the load.

Give the grace and love to others that you would like to have for yourself, and please remember that everyone is fighting some kind of battle, whether you see it or not.

Looking Up

This month marks one year since I slipped in my kitchen, causing a spread of my RSD/CRPS from my neck down. As a way to clear my thoughts and explain my experience, I am writing about my hospital stays during that time. This means you’ll see the good, the bad, and the ugly. Read on if you wish.

After leaving The Worst Hospital Ever, I arrived at the Cleveland Clinic, ready to go. Things started looking up from the moment I arrived. Here’s what happened:

Day 1 (Wed) : Well, I already described this crazy day in Rocky Roads, so that’s pretty much all that happened.

Day 2 (Thurs) : I woke up and stayed in bed for a while until someone came in to get me. I couldn’t move my hands to press the call button, and I couldn’t use my feet to get out of bed, so I stared at the ceiling for a while. Eventually, my Occupational Therapist, Jessie, came to my room. “Good morning!” she said in a cheerful voice. I was happy to see a familiar face, since she was one of my favorites there. “Welcome back. Are you ready to work hard?” she continued. I told her that I wanted to do anything possible to get better. She placed a hairbrush in my tender, swollen hands. “There you go, brush those knots out,” she instructed. I could barely keep my grasp on the handle but I gave it my best effort. Once I did what I could, she stepped in and helped. She then helped me change my clothes and move to my wheelchair. I had a full day of OT, PT, Psychology, and other activities. My psychologist tried to tell me that I had somehow “fallen on purpose to get out of having to go back to school.” I was disturbed by this accusation for a number of reasons. Really, though, if I didn’t want to go to school, I would have just dropped out. Simple. Some people just don’t think before speaking. By the end of day 2 I was able to use one finger to type, so I was finally able to communicate with my family through brief texting and online messages.

Day 3 (Fri): This day, once again, began with Jessie’s smiling face. It was my third day there, which meant I was way overdue for a shower. Jessie wheeled me into the shower room, helped me transfer to a shower chair, and assisted me in undressing. For a college-aged female, taking a shower while someone was watching me was slightly awkward, but I survived and smelled much better once it was done. After the shower I had PT, where I worked on some strengthening of my muscles. My PT also taped my arms and legs with Kinesio Tape to promote swelling reduction and increased movement. I spent the rest of day like the day before…lots of therapy and visits from the docs.

Days 4-6(Sat-Sun) : The weekend was quite boring. I had PT and OT on Saturday morning, but after that, I was given a break from therapy. I had a few visitors but really just wanted to be alone. The nurses urged me to talk to the other patients, but they had their own friends with them and I didn’t feel like socializing.

Day 7 (Mon) : Things started back again on Monday. I started with OT, where I was forced to clean both feet in a bucket of warm soapy water. My really bad foot had layers of dead skin that needed to be taken off, and the not-so-bad (but still bad) foot just needed some desensitization. I cried a lot as Jessie pulled my feet into the water and scrubbed them hard with a washcloth. I kept reminding myself of how much I wanted to get better, so it made it easier to tolerate. We had yoga on Monday, which was a big challenge. Our therapists stayed with us as we did the downward dog, warrior pose, and a variety of other exercises. I couldn’t to much that day but I gave it my best effort. In my other therapies I worked on picking things up with my hands, cleaning my feet, and strengthening my core. It was a tiresome day but I was getting stronger with each moment.

This was just the first week. I’m not going to bore everyone with the rest of my time in the hospital, but by the end of my stay I had completed many hours of therapy and I left on crutches. I was able to use my hands, even though they weren’t 100% better, and my left leg became stronger. I left without doing much work with the right leg (the “bad” one) because of time restraints. I was happy to go home after a few weeks of hard work and many tears.

 

Body Confidence

Okay, this is a slightly random topic, but it’s one that has come up in my life a lot lately: Body Confidence.

First of all, body confidence does not have to do with your future shape and figure. It’s not about working hard to gain that “perfect body.” I watched a video this week where the person was talking about weight loss tips and how to be in shape, but she said that the act of losing weight is body confidence. No, no, no. Body confidence is about loving who you are and how you look at this moment in time. At the core of things, it isn’t even about outward appearances, but rather how your perceive yourself as a whole.

Yesterday in psychopathology we talked about eating disorders, a topic that is close to my heart. Part of the discussion was about how cultural influences have changed throughout the years-having a full body used to be the definition of wealth and beauty, but now the messages of the media scream “thin is in.” Why does this even matter?! Why should your looks dictate what people think of you? This just seems ridiculous to me. Is weight/hair color/shape/size really more important than kindness/intelligence/love/friendship? NO WAY. So why is it that we’re conditioned to believe such an atrocious thing?

In this world of “thinspiration” Pinterest boards, magazines spouting the latest way to drop a jean size, and celebrities describing their “miracle” pills to lose weight, it’s no wonder that we have such a distorted image of beauty. I’m sure if you did a survey, you’d find that not many people have strong levels of body confidence. The way their stomach puffs out a bit or thighs touch doesn’t match up to the image of society’s “ideal” woman. [Side note: Most people have stomachs and lack thigh gaps-it’s just human anatomy]. The age of onset for eating disorders is decreasing significantly to the point where kids as young as elementary school are struggling, and innocent children are starting diets when they should be learning to love life and develop a healthy relationship with food and their bodies.

Why can’t we be confident in the bodies we have? Our flesh is just a minute part of who we are. I know it’s such a cliche thing to say, but in total reality, it is what’s on the inside that counts. I’ve met some horribly rude people who might add up to society’s standards, and I’ve also met some of the nicest individuals who are far from that ideal figure. So why, why, why, are we so quick to judge by how others look? And why are we so quick to judge ourselves?

I have gone on a long and twisted journey to be able to make peace with myself and my body. I went from hating everything about this vessel in which I live, to appreciating all the things my body does for me. So what if I’m not a size 00 with perfect hair and teeth. There’s so much more to life than that. After going through times of not being able to move at all, I have gained a new perspective and am grateful to my body when it does work properly. I am happier and healthier now that I’ve reached this level of confidence in my body’s abilities. That’s not to say that I don’t have those moments when I wish I could change a physical feature-but when I get down on myself, I remember that in the big picture, it just doesn’t matter.

Body confidence is believing in yourself and knowing that you are more than your looks. It’s about loving yourself without judgement and being unashamed of who you are. It’s about not caring about those stupid standards set by society. Stop comparing your reflection in the mirror to that ideal image that you have in your head, and start loving yourself for who you are today.