Stinky Feet Pt. 2
Did you catch Part 1 of my story?
And it continues:
I gave up on doctors for several months.
Then one day I finally said I’ve had enough. I went to my primary doctor and said “please do something, I can’t take it anymore”. She couldn’t give me typical pain medications, because they could potentially mask inflammation, something they were trying to keep an eye out for. She decided to try me on a medication for fibromyalgia, even though that’s not what was going on. Her theory was that it was a similar chronic pain process, so maybe, just maybe, it would have an effect.
I was willing to try anything. If she had told me to hang upside down with my finger on my nose three times a day I probably would have tried it. Unfortunately the medication is frightfully expensive, so I’m limited to half a dose a day. Let me tell you, half is a million times better than nothing.
Yes, I still have pain, but now it’s manageable. And manageable is my new best friend. I wish someone would have thought of this earlier, but I can’t look back like that. I’m grateful that the doctor was willing to give it a try. I guess she finally believed I was struggling after 10 months of coming to her for the same complaint. I’m glad I had the courage to go back and ask for help yet again.
So where do I stand today, thirteen months into this journey?
Thousands and thousands of dollars in medical debt later, I still have 0 answers. None. A few vague theories, a handful of let’s just wait and sees. No answers. I’ve adjusted. I take my medication, along with vitamin B12, like clockwork. It may be half a dose, but that half a dose is priceless. My energy levels have started to return, my hair has stopped falling out, and it’s starting to grow back in. I’m now sporting a new style I like to refer to as my “hair-hawk”, an awkward splay of 1/2 inch hairs stick out of the rest of my long hair like I was attacked by a static ball. An unruly display of way-too-short-wannabe-bangs constantly stick up off my forehead. But they’re a-growing
My grip is poor, but I can write and type and cook and wash my own hair. My feet are weak, but strong enough to support me and get me around. I can’t stand on my toes, or wear shoes with heels, but I’ve been re-learning how to run… just a little differently.
Like I said, my pain isn’t gone, but it’s manageable. And manageable is the new gone.
Thanks for listening. And if I thoroughly bored you, I promise not to let it happen again
Read Part 3