In the many years that I have written this blog I have never written about pain. I've written about various social aspects of my disability, I've written about the physical barriers that I encounter, but I've not written about pain. In many ways, I'm afraid to. My silence, here, and in my social life in general, about pain is, I think, mainly to protect me. My silence buys me freedom from pitying looks and concerned expressions. It buys me freedom from others doing an immediate reevaluation of the quality of my life. It buys me from an increase, even a slight one would be overwhelming, of the 'better dead' approach to disabilities that the issue of pain brings.
I'm choosing to do this now for two reasons, I want to have an accurate 'diary' of my life as a disabled man - the original purpose of this blog and secondly I've learned that silence isn't really the solution to anything. So, I have been experiencing chronic pain for several years now. It varies in intensity. Sometimes it's the kind of pain that you feel when you aren't doing anything else but disappears when involved in something, working, reading, chatting. Pain that is easily pushed to the side. That's what I have most of the time. However, there is also the kind of pain that interrupts my life, my thoughts, my ability to fully concentrate. This is the kind of pain that's been slowly increasing in frequency over the last few months.
Does it diminish the quality of my life? No, certainly not. Does it diminish the quality of a moment? Yes, sometimes, of course it does. It helps that Joe is aware of this and that I can talk about it when it happens. I know he feels helpless to do something mostly because he doesn't understanding that listening and caring IS doing something. Sometimes it's even enough to make it manageable, first and then it can be shoved aside.
Today I've made the decision that it's time to talk to the doctor about pain management. Up until now it's not been on the table because I've been managing pain, pain has not been managing me. I don't want that to change.
I feel weirdly vulnerable writing this. I know when I became a wheelchair user many people stopped booking me as a speaker, even though I think I have more to say, and I say it more clearly, than I did before the wheelchair. Will the same happen with the issue of pain? Will people assume that I can no longer manage? Will people ignore the daily blog, the daily trips to work, the daily living of my life and assume that I no longer want to or am willing to continue of the path that I've set for myself?
The question really then, is will my honesty about my experience of physical pain result in social pain?
I don't know.
But even though this feels a bit scary, it also feels right. I need to, I want to, live an authentic life. I've only got one, I want to be free to explore it in all it's complexities.
And because I want these things ... I'm going to pursue them.
Oddly, I never felt a moments pain while writing about pain. It's was there, but shoved aside, diminished by the concentration and the contemplation involved in writing these words.
Purpose is for me, a helluva pain killer.