Make the world go away
Get it off my shoulder
Say the things we used to say
And make the world, make it go away
You may hear that in Eddy Arnold's voice, but I hear it sung in pure Elvis. No matter, everyone wants to make the world go away at some point. In certain situations this is to be expected, but wanting to withdraw for days, weeks, months, even years for some people, is a common symptom of real depression. There are many causes of depression, some organic, caused by hormonal changes, brain chemicals not doing what they were meant to do, etc... I don't have the expertise to explain all about brain chemistry, but that isn't the type of depression I necessarily want to talk about, although like the rug in the Dude's room, it ties it all together.
The kind of depression I know the most about, personally, comes from dealing with chronic pain. Everyone that I know that deals with pain on a daily basis, experiences depression at some point, and for others it is a constant presence. Much of it is about grieving the loss of your old life. The death of your old life, the hopes and dreams that defined your life before the pain can be as hurtful as the chronic type you wake up to every day. I only speak for myself, but it has helped me to track the trajectory of that pain.
After my first car accident, my primary pain sites were neck, shoulder, arm, hand, right side, and lower back. It was so severe at times, I would curl up in a fetal position and moan, and it was all I was able to do. My treatment on many levels was substandard. My GP didn't want the responsibility of dispensing narcotics, so he sent me to this young sports medicine "pain expert" He was about the worst choice for me possible. He would write an rx for 30 hydrocodone at a time, no refills, and then be completely unavailable when I ran out of meds. I was using as prescribed, for the most part, but if you wake at 3 am, in agony, I don't think the first thing you think of was when was the last pill, you just take one. Or two. Point is this young guy, who may have been a hero to his young athletes in sports medicine, didn't have a damn clue, as to how to treat my pain. He fell insanely short of treating me. Not only that, but I was treated very rudely by a local pharmacist, like I was a street junkie, wandering into his store in search of a dime bag of heroin. I had no clue that I couldn't use two pharmacies. Mom used to have several, and went with who was cheapest on what rx. Everyone knows that pharmacies are linked by computers, to keep people from getting multiple scripts from multiple doctors. When it got back to my regular Dr's office, his crazy bitch office manager, that I didn't even like when we were in Jr High together, had the nerve to fire me as a patient, no questions asked.
So now I am really screwed. I went for my next chiropractic visit, and knowing that he knew my doc; I just broke down and told him everything. He was the good guy in that part of the story, and he offered to call the doc and straighten things out, which he did, God bless him, and he also gave me the name of another friend, a very popular pain doctor. He is another hero in my story. He took my pain seriously, and he gave me steroid injections, which helped a lot in the beginning, later less so, so I stopped them. He still reviews my medications and treats me like a regular human being, not a drug seeking pathetic one.
So in the category of life ain't fair, another moron runs into me with his truck. That is twice in 4 years that someone that shouldn't be driving carelessly runs into another car, that happens to have been me. In this case a mighty sideswipe that pinned me in the car. He never even got out seeing if I was okay. I had the good sense to call an ambulance this time and go to Hendricks for x-rays. I had just learned to live with my current chronic pain, and now I had newer, worse symptoms. In the interim between the wrecks, I also was diagnosed with ovarian cancer, and underwent a full hysterectomy. Shortly after the second wreck, I was diagnosed with degenerative disk disease in my lower back. So after acupuncture, traction therapy, too many pills, and so many other accompanying issues, I am literally again in a world of hurt.
How do you cope with pain so severe? How do you keep it from owning you and ruining your life, when everything you do revolves around whether you can get out of bed that day, and if so for how long, and how much mobility will you have? I don't presume to know how you will cope, but I can share how I have, even though it is piss poorly sometimes. First I will own up to having flirted pretty heavily with the idea of suicide at one point. This was mostly after seeing the surgeon who diagnosed my degenerative disk disease, thus ushering in a two year period of waiting for my disability claim to come through, where my attorney told me even if I could work, I shouldn't, because it would jeopardize my claim. I couldn't. No way no how. Anyway, I decided that if I was unable to cope any longer, I would use the Hemingway method, putting a shotgun in my mouth and pulling the trigger with my toe. I figured it was a sure thing, unlike swallowing a bunch of pain killers that might leave me in a vegetative state, in need of new kidneys. This was unbelievably comforting to me. Not because I would ever do it, for many reasons, but the idea that there was always a choice was comforting.
I also talked to my new nurse practitioner, same doc, new nurse, and she suggested that I do another round of physical therapy. Not as done previously, but as a new evaluation of what was physically possible to me. I had always loved certain exercise, especially weight training. All the surgeon thought I would ever be able to do is walk in chest high water. I did that, but it wasn't near as much stress busting as what I required. I was assigned this traveling PT, who was very thorough and very motivational. He helped establish some parameters, so that I got back into the gym, and slowly made my way back to group exercise classes. How do I force myself up and out to the pool or the gym? I want to go. I am motivated to go because it helps me stay mobile. And I am a social person at heart. I have spent a great deal of time self-quarantined in my Goddess Cavern, and I know when I have to break that cycle and get up and out.
I exercise. I pray and I meditate. I hang out by the HSU pool and read, and then maybe jog some laps in the pool. I try to manage my medication. Perhaps that is one advantage of having earned my master's degree in counseling and child development, I know a lot about addiction. Also having been married to an alcoholic for 7 years, I knew the progression of the disease. So I don't always take the maximum medication. It would not kill the pain anyway. The closest I have ever been to being pain-free, was when taking my regular meds and wearing a Fentanyl patch. I was also drooling on myself. I knew that if I got dependent on something at the strongest level, that breakthrough pain was eventually going to happen, and there would be no place to go for relief. So I try to deal with what I have. I do all these things and I try to participate in the world, and realize that whatever I do is my choice. There is damn little I can control in my life anymore. Seems like even less day by day. But I always get to choose how I respond to any stimuli. I can be bitter and petty, or I can choose to try and be compassionate, because we all have crosses to bear. I still throw my little hissy fits and pity parties, also coping skills, but eventually I pull my head out and try again to lead as normal of a life as possible. I use logotherapy on myself. If you are interested in how that relates to your choices in life, read Man's Search For Meaning, by Dr Viktor Frankl. It is a short paperback read, but very helpful to people stuck in circumstances that they cannot change, whether that be in a prison cell or in a body that is wracked by pain. Find someone to talk to, someone that would listen to you. There are numerous online communities if there are no live compassionate people nearby. It may help to keep a journal or blog, if for no other reason, than to have a place to spill your guts.