Losses

My shoulder muscles hurt today, both the left and right. They hurt from the work of adjusting my body in bed, picking up my legs in the shower, transferring, all of it. As usual. my left side is the worst, almost bad enough to cause me to reach for the Tylenol. I probably will fairly soon; it makes no sense to stay in pain in some silly belief that I am saving my body by not taking all kinds of drugs. My body is getting well on to useless. Preserving and protecting it makes little or no sense at all. In fact, I'm going to stop for a minute and go get some Tylenol right now.

Pain management is a big deal with this disease, something you don't find out about until you are well into it. I have a variety of pain medications, at all levels of toxicity, which I can use depending on the intensity of pain, type of pain, and duration of pain. Most of the time, it's just Tylenol. If things amp up, I've got some Tylenol 3 with Codeine. For targeted intramuscular pain relief, I've got Naproxin. When things get really serious, I've got some Oxycontin on standby.

Perhaps the best pain relief I've ever felt has been hospital administered intravenous morphine. That stuff gives you a really good ride. It's a shame that some people are allergic to it; it really works. I can also see how some people get addicted to it. Morphine does a lot more than take away pain; it takes away how you feel and puts you someplace else altogether.

The only kind of pain I don't have pills for is the emotional pain that goes with the constant loss associated with ALS. I have been in virtually continuous mourning since I was diagnosed, diminished by each day with this disease. It's hard to explain. Imagine have dozens of pets, each of whom was important, integral to your life. Now imagine that each week one of those creatures you love, one of those parts of you, dies. You just get over one when another leaves you, leaves you lessened, leaves you in pain, leaves you in mourning. That might be an inkling of what it feels like for me, as each day or week I notice another loss, another pain.

My doctors, and most who care for me, suggest I drink to much. Alcohol is a pain killer. It's not as good as morphine, but it takes me away from my pain, takes me someplace else. I am self-medicating. It's not the best approach, but it is an approach. I am coping as best I can, with the losses, with the physical pain, and with the emotional pain. I hurt way too much, way too often, in places the pills can't reach. In the end, there is no pain relief. I always sober up. The pills always wear off. There is always a new pain, a new loss. That's the way this disease works.