Writing or speaking with an overused phrase is typically considered cliché, trite. Some would say to avoid them like the plague. Although that may be correct at times, have you ever thought about clichés in a different way? If it’s something that is overused, it must be good, right? I mean, if people are using it over and over again, it has to be brilliant or at least have a deep meaning? For example, whoever said “You can’t judge a book by its cover” was brilliant. Considering that phrase both figuratively and literally, we shouldn’t judge a book or anything by its cover or what’s on the outside. That’s why we should always have #judgefreeeyes. Another phrase that might seem cliché is “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” Life had certainly given me lemons, but I was still trying to figure out how to make lemonade. Enter The Lemons Center.
In the middle of January of this year, the phone call I’d been waiting on finally came. I was elated to find out what the doctor recommended had been approved. Approved! Although it took a while, it was worth the wait. For the past year and a half, I had been researching and searching for a place in Missouri or Kansas that could help patients with CRPS. A place that would use a multi-disciplinary approach to treat this disease and/or chronic pain; treating the physical, social and emotional part of it. The problem I was running into was that all MDs, to no fault of their own, treat patients with medicine or medical procedures. (Hence MD…medical doctor.) By this point in my journey, I had tried up to 10 different types of medicine that always caused serious side effects or made me crazy. My broken leg and torn tendon had healed, yet I still had pain. My foot was a burning inferno while at the same time being frost bite to the bone. My body had endured so much already both physically and mentally. My pain was no longer acute. It had become chronic.
Thankfully, I was given the go ahead to begin my journey at The Lemon Center (TLC). Although life had given me lemons, I was going to make lemonade. (See how I did that?) This program consisted of a one hour group meeting with other chronic pain patients, one hour of physical therapy, one hour or pain management education, then the day ended with another hour of physical therapy. Four hours of intense treatment; not to mention a 45 minute drive there and back for six weeks. I had wanted this for so long and finally, it was happening. Although I knew this program wouldn’t cure me, I knew it would introduce me to more tools that would help me manage my pain. It would also give me the opportunity to get to know others who were experiencing chronic pain. After meeting with Dr. Lemons and discussing my situation, I was hopeful.
The first few weeks were TOUGH! I mean really TOUGH. Never before had I been put in a position to talk about the feelings of the pain I was experiencing. Really talk about it. I didn’t realize I was holding on to so many emotions. Since May 17, 2016 I’ve tried putting on a brave face for those other than my family. The cliché of never let them see you sweat comes to mind here. I didn’t want people to think I couldn’t handle this and I sure didn’t want them to know at times I was ready to give up hope. As you’ve read before, I’ve never been the type that couldn’t handle things, and I definitely would never let anyone see me “sweat.” But this journey had changed that. All the things I knew about myself before the kickball accident had changed. I wasn’t as strong as I had once been. I wasn’t the happy-go-lucky person I used to be. I wasn’t the positive person who always saw the glass completely full. All these things contributed to my anger, sadness, guilt, and loneliness.
During the first two weeks of the program, I struggled. I’d come home swearing I wouldn’t go back. But I always had that person (you know who you are) who would remind me I could do hard things. That I was capable of working through this struggle. That I was strong enough to endure anything that was thrown at me even if it was a lemon. Sure enough, she was right. As the weeks went on talking openly about my emotions became easier and easier. I became friends with the others in the program as we had so many things in common. Just as they had, I’d lost friends, part of my personality, my energy, my enthusiasm, and my zest for life. They were all in the same boat. But…we were there for each other. I finally felt like I had a family outside of my home again.
Aside from the emotional group therapy, I learned how to better manage my pain. Let’s be honest, I like to control things. One thing I wasn’t doing was controlling my pain. It was controlling me. (And I didn’t like that!) Through this program, I learned how to communicate with those close to me to help them better understand my pain. I also learned how to relax. Seriously, relax. I had meditated before, but if I’m being honest, I never felt completely relaxed when done. I learned how to sit still for 15 minutes straight, keep my mind focused, breath correctly and feel more relaxed than I had ever felt before. It’s amazing how that feels. Even though that didn’t take my pain away, it was a tool for me to use to help manage my pain. As a chronic pain patient, emotions and stress level can make you perceive your pain differently. That’s why these two things are so important. This program proved just that!
Finally, every day at TLC I spent two hours doing physical therapy (PT). Each of us had a different PT plan. Mine included all the components of CRPS treatment including stretching, strengthening, de-sensitizing, two point and object discrimination, etc. Most days these things brought an increased level of burning, but with the strategies I had learned, I was able to manage the pain and work through it. Although the pain never went away, I was hopeful these new strategies would help me with reducing my pain levels. Physical therapy was like my exercise for the day. It wasn’t running, but it was movement. It’s amazing to me how there aren’t more programs like this in our area.
Through this program I learned so much about myself. I recognized how angry I was about my situation, how other people with chronic pain feel the same way, and how the medical model doesn’t always address everything that a person with chronic pain needs. I was reminded that taking care of myself first was most important, and I learned how to set limits and pace and space my day. Making new friends who understood what it’s like to live with a chronic illness was amazing. Although the six weeks were HARD, I made it through it. I graduated from the program with a promise to myself. A promise to continue using these strategies to help manage my pain. A promise to talk about my emotions instead of bottling them up. And finally, a promise to be there for others who experience any type of chronic pain. It can be an incredibly lonely road. I’m thankful I found TLC. I’m also thankful for the people I met who struggle with the same emotions as I do.
After I graduated from TLC, life gave me another lemon. My hope was I could make lemonade out of it again. I was now more equipped with strategies to help me overcome anything that was thrown my way. No matter how big the lemon, surely with faith and family I would get through.
Inside Invisible Illness 