Today I found out I have a long and painful road of recovery before me. If I don’t fix this problem now, one day I won’t be able to sit up straight, I could lose the ability to move correctly.
It started in my toes this morning after going to the hospital. This slow-burning sensation that I had no way to put a name on. It felt like someone shot me up and left me within the turmoils of my own mind. Pretty cruel, isn’t it? To have aided in helping fuck someone over?
Hypochondria: Obsession with the idea of having a serious but undiagnosed medical condition.
I’ve had this name attached to me my entire childhood. Everything I would tell my parents that hurt me growing up was pushed off as being a “hypochondriac.” The girl who cried wolf. Guess what? Bet it sucks to know that because you didn’t listen to me when I was young, that I might be in a wheelchair by the time I am barely 50.
That sneaky little feeling in my toes slowly spread to my ankles, shooting up my legs, and settling into my chest, turned into anger. Can you please get the fuck off my chest? You’re strangling me from the outside in. I guess that is no different than when you had your hands down my throat trying to seize my soul from the inside out.
I don’t know where to direct my anger anymore. Should I be mad at myself? Should I be mad at my parents? I feared the doctor for years and years. I never went in for anything. I was taught that it doesn’t matter if you’re in pain because no one cares anyway. Panic spread across my chest with spindly fibers, tightening with each thought of doctors. Until now, my mouth used to curse at doctors, lips parting just let dirty air come out. Cursing at my doctors the way I wish I could to you.
When I was in the 7th grade, my physical health started to deteriorate. It started with smaller things. One day, I noticed I was unable to see the chalkboard in front of me from the 1st row of class. This small girl told her parents, they didn’t believe her. As a child, I had to go behind my parents back and ask the school nurse to test my eyes. She did and sent me home with my little slip of “I told you so!” What happened then? Oh, I got my glasses, but I was in a terrible amount of trouble. I went behind my parents back and “cried wolf” to the school nurse. I remember experiencing back pain in middle school. The middle school hosted a school-wide testing for scoliosis. My parents made me opt out of it. I went anyway. The nurse told me my spine was off center and that it was going to cause me issues in my future. She sent me home with my second “I told you so!” note of my 7th-grade career. This time though, I did not get help. Instead, I got yelled at. I got chewed out for seeking help. These are just two example of certain situations, but there are plenty more. (Ankle issues, knee issues, hip issues, shoulder issues.)
In High School, I had to quit the sports I was in. I was diagnosed with tendinitis in my shoulders. I was receiving therapy from the school. Did anyone believe this? You should know the answer at this point. I was left to my own defenses. Trying to defend someone I didn’t see worthy of defending. I didn’t want to be alive anymore at this point, so what was the point? I started running, but experienced too much pain and was advised to quit.
I was constantly blamed (all my childhood) of lying to school nurses, spending too much time there, etc.
Did you ever stop to think that she was the only one who would actually help me? Did you ever stop to think that maybe there ARE things to pay attention to? Did you…ever stop to think that maybe your child needed someone who was there for her? Someone who would take her pain seriously, without yelling or guilt-tripping? No, you didn’t. Loneliness is the condition in which your heart forgets to beat.
Why am I so angry about something that happened years ago? Flash forward to my appointment this morning. I have been getting treated for possible endometriosis and looking into surgeries (including a hysterectomy.) Today, a new doctor decided to look at my case from a different angle. So she had me take all of my clothes off and looked at the positioning of my muscles in my back. Half the reason I am in so much daily pain is that of the following reasons.
– My spine is off center
– My spine is twisted
– My pelvic bone is set back, giving me no butt (much to everyone’s dismay)
– My spine is pushed out in the middle of my back
– My right hip is lower than my left
– My hip bones, by my pelvic floor, are worn down from popping in and out of place
– There is not one muscle, tracing from my tailbone to my neck, that isn’t stiffened or flexed 24/7
– My legs don’t sit right on my hips, causing me knee and ankle issues
– There are extra bones in my ankles, which caused all my issues growing up. My back muscles are straining on my uterus, which might be causing all my pain.
On top of all of that, I was officially diagnosed with endometriosis. I now have to vaginally insert Valium twice a day to try to thin my uterine lining, so the chiropractor had an easier time doing his work. I don’t have official x-rays yet even, the doctor saw all of this with bare eyes. I can’t imagine what the x-ray will look like next week.
I never have been able to touch my toes, sit on the floor without bending back, etc. You know what would have solved this all? That nurse in middle school. I was told today that if I would’ve been put in leg and back braces when I was young, I would not be in pain like this.
My body is trying to give up on me. I am 21 years young and my body is tired of fighting. I am sick of chronic pain. I am sick of feeling 70. Stay with me for just a little bit longer, let me help myself. Let me do what my parents stopped me from doing years ago. Will you?
I think I gave up trying to fight this so hard because I slowly started to hate myself. Starting in middle school. This dangerous feeling led me into a life of anorexia. So should I be mad at myself? I never gave my body a chance to heal because I was paper. A stiff wind could’ve taken me away from everything. Like a used cigarette, I almost blew away without a care. I certainly wouldn’t have missed myself. I starved myself to the point of desperation. Maybe it’s my fault. Maybe I fucked myself up. Food served as my control, the only thing I had left to take over. I weakened my bones, it is almost too dangerous to do surgery removing my uterus because I am already a good candidate for osteoporosis. Even my bones are breaking underneath me.
So where should this anger go? Where should this pain go? Anger is a demon that likes to stay. He likes to build a home in your gut. He likes to swirl around in your stomach and bounce on your brain. He doesn’t know where he is going, just glad he is going somewhere. Should I let him live here? Who am I without my anger and how do I accept that one day I might not be able to move without assistance. How do I accept that my body will most likely fail me sooner than later? What if it is too late now?
I am angry. I am sad. I am discouraged. I want to give up before the fight has even begun.
I got my one last “I told you so!” letter in my hands, but I have no address in my heart to send it to.