violachic

Physical therapy went really well. I like my therapist. I'll be working with her, and alternating with a guy who I haven't met yet. I'm a little apprehensive about working with a guy, but I'll wait to pass judgement until I've had my first session next week. I'll be going twice a week for at least the rest of this month. This means I have to make a decision about the Full-Timer's retreat for CPT, which is the third week of September. I really want to go, but its five days, and aside from the fact that it might completely wear me out, it would mean missing two PT appointments. I'm ready to put the work behind PT, because it feels like the best answer I've gotten so far to the pain.

So far, everbody I've dealt with at the pain center has been awesome. I've already gotten a level of sympathy I never got from my old doctors. They take everything seriously, even if I say something in the fit of pain and frustration instead of out of logic, and even if I appear to be half-joking about something. Plus, they have all expressed what I feel is an appropriate level of sympathy and horror over the stresses I had in my life leading up to the illness. My old doctors wrote it down in my chart and never revisited it. Of course, these were the doctors I was telling I was depressed for four months and they never did anything about it. Sorry. I'm a little bitter. Okay, not bitter. But maybe a little resentful.

In fact, that seems to be a recurring theme, with all three doctors- the medical doctor, the psychiatrist and the physical therapist. They all are taking my stressors very seriously, but there is also this interesting balance of taking it seriously but not stigmatizing mental illness. Chronic pain often goes hand in hand with mental illnesses of many kinds and in many ways, so at a chronic pain center of course they'd have a balanced view on things. It feels really good. I don't know if I've ever expressed this sentiment before, but I have a huge fear of being stigmatized for mental illness. Being someone who is prone to mild depression- mild, meaning it doesn't directly interfere with my life inasmuch as I'm capable of functioning, even if just barely sometimes, and I've never been hospitalized, etc for it- and who is a major internalizer, I tend to also let what I'm internalizing affect my mood and behavior. I think this is something that is going to change radically throughout the rest of my treatment with all three components. I honestly don't think I'm going to heal unless it does change. Its a little bit of a scary thought; I'm so incredibly exhausted that I feel like crying at the amount of physical and emotional work that is going to have to be done. In the long run, I'm sure it will be worth it, and hopefully I'll come out a much stronger, much more capable person. But right now... oy.

So my first session involved a lot of question-asking, but also some initial evaluation of what my actual physical capabilities are. Looking at my limits, what causes the pain, my range of motion, etc. One of the things she kept telling me was "don't worry, I know its causing you pain, but you're not doing actual harm to your body". She assured me that even though it sounded callous it was meant to be comforting. I understood what she was saying, while acknowledging that I'm not thrilled about reproducing the pain. She also told me that she's taking my depression into account while working with me. I'm not yet entirely certain what the connotations of that statement are, but I guess I'll find out.

One of the best parts is the article she gave me to read. She asked if I'd done any reading on chronic pain yet, and no, I haven't. Kate and Larry gave me a book they found amongst the piles and piles of books Kate brought back to the house as her inheritance, but they just gave it to me last night right before I went to sleep. I'm now looking forward very much to reading it.

The article can actually be found online here. There are two parts of it that spoke to me very much.

When you are in agony, the last thing you want to be told is that it's all in your head. But in truth, pain does come from your head, in a group of interconnected brain regions known as the pain matrix. Some regions are involved in delivering descriptive information about the feeling—where it is, how intense it is, whether it's a dull soreness or a sharp prick. Another part, the anterior cingulate cortex, registers the unpleasant "hurt" of pain. It connects the physical sensation of pain to feelings of distress.

Interestingly, the anterior cingulate cortex doesn't distinguish between psychic and bodily injury—it lights up whether you've been hit in the stomach or hit by rejection—and is sensitive to your state of mind. "It is particularly dampened by good mood and enhanced by a bad mood," says M. Catherine Bushnell, director of the McGill University Centre for Research on Pain. "Change the mood, and it changes the pain."

and

The same area apparently influences empathy as well. Researchers in England studied happy couples' responses to each other's twinges. When one partner watched the other endure pain, his or her cingulate responded. The higher the person scored on a test of empathy, the stronger the response. In addition, the more empathetic you are, the more vividly you anticipate your own pain: In a sense, you're empathizing with your future self.

Hello? Resonate much?

I almost cried when I read this article. It felt like for the first time I found someone who could articulate many feelings I've had that I could not. It was such a huge relief, like being admitted to a special club where everybody gets it.

So I'm tired, physically, mentally and emotionally, from this morning. And not because it was so early, because I did manage to get to sleep relatively early, too. I had a really solid six hours or so under my non-existant belt before I went in. Just because it was hard to focus, and took a lot out of me. However, I'm incredibly optomistic at this point. I'm actually looking forward to my next PT appointment. Perhaps, as

telstarman told me in my previous post, I will indeed end up hating everyone I work with. But for now, they feel like my saviors.

So now I'm at my sister's as I have therapy at 3 this afternoon (head therapy), and it was easier for her than driving me home and picking me up again. So at some point I'm going to need to lie down for a bit before I go there. I left my appointment a little shaky and slightly dizzy, but I feel better now. I'm hungry too. I will be raiding the fridge.

So I guess I've said enough for now, so I'll go away for awhile. More to come, I'm sure.