Falling Out of Place

I began my new position as a BIST Consultant in July 2018. I knew all the physical therapy, encouragement from a few friends and family as well as the wisdom from Dr. Lemons was going to be put to good use. During the month of June I worked to get stronger and stronger and eventually was able to stop wearing my horrendous looking boot. This was a positive, as I didn’t want to start my new position making the grotesque fashion statement.  Trust me when I say this, there is nothing fashionable about a two year old gray boot. To say I was excited to be back working and to be a part of an amazing team would be an understatement.

Honestly, there were so many feelings gushing through my brain when I thought about working again. It was like the flood gates had opened, and dirt and debris where filling my body. I knew I would need to find my new “working” normal, but that was REALLY scary. All I’ve ever known was go, go, go, go, go, go, go and then start all over again. My new body wouldn’t allow me to do that, so I had to figure out what I would be able to do. Dare I say, my mind went there?  The dirt and debris washed over me and sent my mindset into oblivion.  Thoughts of “how on earth will I be able to do this,” and “what if it doesn’t work,” and “what if I fail,” and “what if I’m not capable,” coerced through my mind. As we all know, this isn’t the first time I’ve thought “what if.”

One of the nice things about this new position was I started out part time and had an amazing boss. This would give my body time to adjust and see if and how I could manage my pain level and eventually work 5 days a week. CRPS doesn’t just go away, so I had to keep that in mind. I knew I’d have limitations that others didn’t, but I was determined to make this work.

From June to October, I continued having appointments with the plastic surgeon who removed 1 of my nerves in my ankle. As always, he’d tell me, “Your ankle looks fabulous and you shouldn’t have any pain because I removed a nerve.”  Yet again, I was reminded how little doctors knew about my condition. The anxiety of each of these appointment made my pain increase. Finally, he released me and referred me back to my orthopedic doctor. Are you kidding me? I knew what was happening…they were just passing me back and forth between each other because none of them really knew what to do to help me.

The orthopedic doctor took a look at my ankle and gasped. He was shocked at how thin my skin was and pointed out how he could actually see my tendons through my skin. Apparently, the plastic surgeon had given me far too many cortisone shots to make my ankle look “fabulous.” This, however, was not good for me. I told him all about my symptoms which were exactly the same as the year before when I saw him. He then prescribed an ointment for me to try. As if this “magic ointment” that I’ve tried before was going to work.  It didn’t.

I continued to see the orthopedic doctor every six weeks until he finally referred me to a pain management doctor – AGAIN. He reminded me how he doesn’t treat patients with CRPS, so he thought it would be best to see someone else. In my mind, that was 12 weeks of wasted time. Twelve weeks of pain with no one worried about trying to help me manage it.

By this time it was starting to get really cold outside. Can you say the coldest winter EVER???  My daily pain levels were increasing. Tramadol, Ibuprofen and Tylenol just weren’t helping me at all. I did my best at putting a happy face on each and every day while working. Then I’d cry all the way home with the heat pad on my foot until I could take pain medicine. I spent most evenings lying in bed, in the dark, praying for the pain to go away. It took me awhile to realize working 5 days in a row was taking its toll on me. My incredible boss was understanding and so helpful during this time. I missed a lot of work and was thankful for all the snow days.

I continued fighting, trying to figure out how to manage my pain with the tools I’d been given, but nothing seemed to help. The referral to a pain management doctor hadn’t been approved, so I was feeling very discouraged. It seemed as if the feelings of my life falling into place were now changing to my life falling out of place. Not one part of this journey has made any sense to me. I knew I had CRPS. I knew I had to figure out how to live with this chronic condition. Knowing those two things made me grieve for my old self.  A grief that wouldn’t go away. I yearned for my old, happy, teaching, pain free self.  Would that ever come back?  Would I ever be the same as I was before I played that stupid game of kickball?