For the past year, I’ve been suffering from intense lower back pain that also causes numbness in my right foot. This pain was different from anything I’ve experienced.
Although I was born with skeletal dysplasia, and have a bad case of scoliosis, my back never bothered me. Until last year. When it hit me hard.
For one week, I was flat on my back, unable to sit or stand because doing so exacerbated my pain. For a while, I felt like I’d be stuck there on my bed for the rest of my life.
I had X-rays, an MRI, several doses of steroids. I’ve seen many doctors who’ve offered me differing opinions — your pain will go away, it will just take time, it’s a long process, your numbness may never go away, you’ll be like this forever. Welcome to the new you.
You’ll be like this forever. Welcome to the new you.
So, of course, I wrote about it. My latest piece about the body, “Body remembers,” was published in The Fem on May 11. It is a history of the mutation of my COL2A1 gene — how my bone disorder affects different parts of my body. And how resilient this particular mutation is — it tries very hard to get passed on to children.
In the poem, I compare this chronic pain to office supplies, like a tangled rubber band ball or sharp paper clips because I first started experiencing it in an office setting. I was trying to place the reader in a swivel chair, seated in front of a computer screen, starting to feel pangs in their own back.
Pain is a full-body experience.
I also explore the worst pain I’ve ever experienced in my life — worse than this ongoing back pain and foot numbness — an ear infection I got after I flew with a cold. This ear infection made me lose my hearing for a good two weeks. And there’s not much you can do to alleviate internal ear pain. You just lay there, feeling as if you’ll never be pain-free again.
Today, I’m not stuck on my bed. I’m working full-time, going to poetry workshops, and marketing my book!
When you’re in the midst of pain, it affects you completely. Pain is a full-body experience that tires people out. Luckily for me, it ebbs and flows. And I’m able to say “take that” in pain’s face and write about it.