Pain is a great teacher, though I'd prefer a more pleasant instructor

Back in 2020 was when my sciatica pain started. I don't know why. Often health problems appear mysteriously. Which would be fine if they disappeared just as mysteriously. 

But in my case, the extreme pain I had early on, where I'd shed tears uncontrollably while walking the dog or mowing the lawn if I was having an especially bad day, eventually abated. Maybe from time. Maybe from the physical therapy exercises I was given. Who knows?

For the next three years, 2021-23, my right leg always had some discomfort. It was manageable, though. I didn't need pain relievers. I was able to do whatever I wanted, albeit with some pain if it involved standing or moving for more than a few minutes. 

Then things changed last December. The locus of the pain shifted from my leg to my leg plus my hip area and part of my butt. It also got more intense. So my primary care provider referred me for more physical therapy. 

That helped for a while. Until it didn't. Last Saturday I finally got a lumbar MRI after I met the criteria for my MedAdvantage insurance: got an X-ray, tried physical therapy, pain won't go away with medication or other means.

Now I'm in an awkward waiting period. The MRI result, which had a lot of "extreme" words in the report (age-related spinal degeneration, basically), opened the door to me getting referrals to two Pain and Spine clinics here in Salem, Oregon.

They likely will be able to help me. Cortisone injections, maybe. Surgery as a last resort. I'm sure they have other options that are better than what I'd doing now. That's mainly alternating Tylenol and Advil every four hours throughout the day, exercising, and simply dealing with the pain as best I can.

This morning it was excruciating, because sleeping causes my nerves and muscles to tighten up, making it extremely difficult to get out of bed when I have to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, or upon waking up in the morning.

That gets me to the philosophical part of this blog post. 

I've tried thinking positively, visualizing myself as I'm getting ready for bed with manageable pain in the morning. That's better than thinking gloomingly, which creates more tension in me, something I don't need.

I've tried repeating a mantra, the Buddhist Namu Amida Butsu being a favorite. This also helps, yet it seems artificial to me, being a distraction or barrier from what my mind would be doing absent the mantra. 

Then there's simply being in the present moment. That's my go-to approach when the pain is so great, my attention narrows to doing Just One Thing. That's how I picture the situation: Just One Thing, followed by Just One Thing, followed by Just One Thing.

Last night I was sleeping soundly until I awoke around 5 am. I groggily realized that I didn't feel any pain. My semi-awake brain thought, "Great, your sciatica is better; you won't have much of a problem getting up to go to the bathroom."

Until I moved. A little. Which hurt a lot. So much so, I cried out in pain. Not enough to wake my wife, thankfully, who sleeps in another part of our house. That cry was repeated several more times as I struggled to move my right leg, which was locked in an excruciating sciatica death grip.

All I could do was Just One Thing. Eventually I was able to swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand up. Just One Thing. Then I got a crutch that I keep next to the bed for nights when it's extremely painful to walk into the bathroom. Just One Thing. I shuffled along, one crutch-assisted step at a time. Just One Thing.

I couldn't handle the entire situation, which seemed like a nightmare if I let my mind drift in that direction. However, I could do Just One Thing, followed by the next Just One Thing. It took quite a while, but eventually I was able to get back into bed and fall asleep again. Just One Thing.

There's a lesson here. Maybe just for me. Maybe for others also. 

When things are going well, or at least not too badly, it's easy to believe that we've got life figured out. Our coping mechanisms work for us. Existence is pleasant enough, and we can handle the rough spots that pop up. 

But when we're pushed to a limit, beyond what we're used to handling, that's when we might realize the limitation of our usual manner of going about things. Such was the case for me, for sure. 

When excruciating sciatica pain comes over me, it washes away my customary positivity, my mantras, my meditation, my life lessons, my knowledge -- just about everything. What's left isn't really me. At least, not the me I ordinarily consider myself to be. 

What's there is what my body is doing and feeling. What's there is my consciousness, my awareness engaged in Just One Thing. Taking a step. Swallowing a pill. Going to the bathroom. Washing my hands. Always, Just One Thing.

And that, actually, is what's happening every moment of every day whether I'm feeling such pain. I'm always doing Just One Thing. I just don't realize it, because my attention can flow in many different directions. Intense pain narrows that focus. Pain screams, "Only me, only me!" 

I can't help but obey. Yet in the midst of that pain, I can still do Just One Thing in addition to feeling the pain. That's my reality at that moment. As I said, maybe at every moment, if I could just realize it.

A passage in the Preface of Joan Tollifson's book, Nothing to Grasp, says what I feel in painful moments.

Liberation is finding freedom in limitation and perfection in imperfection. It is the freedom to be exactly as we are. But what are we? What is real Here/Now? What is life all about? Who is reading these words? 

Is reading these words an individual choice, or is it the only possible activity of the whole universe at this moment, and is there a difference? 

Comments

[William J]

Hey Brian

https://www.foundationforpn.org/scrambler-therapy-for-treating-neuropathic-pain/

[Appreciative Reader]

Ouch. You've spoken of this thing before; and of course, us sympathizing with you is no help to you really; but it really really sucks, having to live with so *much* pain on a daily basis. Let's hope your treatment and your surgery, when you get to it, finally puts an end to this thing.

[Ron E.]

Some people have painful conditions all their lives or at an early stage in their lives. How they often seem to cheerfully cope I find amazing.

I developed chronic knee pain some years ago which later required partial knee replacement surgery. This was eighteen months ago. Early this year the pain manifested again to the point that makes using stairs or steps painful. I’d always been an avid hill and long-distance walker. Since surgery I’ve had to avoid the bigger hills and mountains as descents put too much pressure on the joint – but still able to do some walking.

When it comes to pain brought on through old age, I find that the most debilitating thing is not the actual pain but the inability to do the things that once came easy and naturally. It means a complete change of attitude including an acceptance of encroaching limitations – difficult when one’s life revolved around working, living and socialising in the outdoors.

Brian’s ‘Just one thing’ seems to be on the right track. It may be a question of thought not dwelling on the pain as pain, just an awareness of sensation (easier said than done.) I did read an article recently that began: - “What Zen meditators don’t think about won’t hurt them.” So perhaps the answer lies somewhere in here, all to do with ‘me’ creating thoughts about a ‘me’ feeling pain.