The Depths of Illness - Tailbone Pain

I can't remember when the pain started only that it was excruciating.  My tailbone felt as if a red hot clamp was slowly being tightened around it by some invisible force.  The pain fluctuated throughout the day - usually better in the morning than at night

It did not help that I had a desk job and spent eight plus hours a day sitting.  I tried sitting on a wedge pillow, to no effect.  I got rid of my usual work chair in favor of a large exercise ball, to no effect.  The pain limited my focus, caused anxiety, and by the end of the day I constantly shifted in my chair, sweaty, weary.  I talked work into buying me a stand-up desk.  Standing all day helped a little, but my knees began to ache, then my lower back.  I returned to sitting.

While the days remained difficult, the nights became restless.  As the pain got worse, I lay in bed, awake, unable to sleep due to the pain.  Shifting positions did not help.  Heat did not help.  Ice helped, numbed the nerves, but fixed nothing and did not help with sleep.  I finally figured out that if I laid on a tennis ball in exactly the right spot on my tailbone, the pain would relent to a mildly more tolerable pressure, allowing me to fall asleep before utter exhaustion was required to finish the job.    

During this time, I regularly visited an osteopath for manipulations and advice.  The manipulations did not help.  Eventually, he ordered an MRI of my back, which showed bulging discs.  Could be referred pain from the bulging disc, he said.  He ordered a second MRI of my pelvis for concurrent pain in my right hip.  That MRI was inconclusive.  He suggested stretching and jacuzzi therapy. Stretching and jacuzzi therapy didn't help. He also referred me to a back specialist.   Could be referred pain from the bulging disc, the back specialist said and offered a steroid injection.  But the injection only helps in 50% of cases and is only temporary, he added.  My take away - the pain only comes from the bulging disc in about 50% of the cases.  I refused the injection at the time, preferring to find and fix the actual cause of the pain.

            

The Depths of Illness - Tight Muscles & Muscle Spasms

Shortly after Ingrid and I moved to San Diego, I felt my muscles tighten.  The tightening wasn't gradual over a few years, it was a noticeable progression over a week or so in which it felt like someone was pouring concrete into one muscle group at a time - starting with my neck, then upper back, lower back, hamstrings, and finally calves.  The tightness never left, triggering an obsession with stretching.  I tried yoga, Wii fit stretching, self-regulated stretching, dynamic stretching over the better part of six years - all without significant improvement in flexibility.  The tightness and lack of flexibility felt like part of the problem.  When I felt most ill, my muscles were the tightest.  At random intervals, my muscles felt uneasy, vulnerable, and quivered.  I suspected that I wasn't getting a key nutrient or vitamin that was preventing my muscles from regaining their elasticity but had been unable to find the right combination of vitamins and minerals.  So I kept experimenting and dealing with the tightness as best as I could until one morning the severity of my condition came to full light.

Adelaide sat in her high chair eating waffles that I had toasted, slathered with butter, soaked in maple syrup, and cut into small sticky cubes.  Our nanny, Caroline, arrived as I put the finishing touches on my own waffles.  I sat on the bar stool next to Adelaide.  Caroline sat on the couch in the next room as we chatted.  I felt sluggish but not overly fatigued.  After a bite of waffle my stomach soured, and I put down my fork.  Not an unusual occurrence for me - only this time the sour stomach came with a little surprise.  As the fork hit the plate, my lower back quivered - as if god had reached down and plucked a muscle like a guitar string.  The muscle relaxed for a two count and then seized, tighter and tighter, forcing my whole body to clenched.  Pain exploded in my lower back.  The muscle relaxed, bringing with it all the other muscles.  Legs weak, I dropped to the floor.  Another spasm began.

I rolled and twisted on the kitchen tile unable to breath.  I could not cry out - I could only clench my teeth and hold my breath.  The spasm lasted a minute, though it seemed forever, then paused - a singular moment of respite - before returning just as strong.  I could do no more than ride the waves of pain, thrashing into the kitchen cabinets and Adelaide's Chair.  After a few minutes, Adelaide began screaming.  I couldn't believe that she was still in the chair and Caroline was still on the couch.  "Can I do anything?" Caroline asked.  I yelled for her to get Adelaide out of the kitchen. 

Between spasms, I tried stretching.  The pain intensified.  I tried huddling in the fetal position.  I rolled onto my side.  Onto my back.  No relief.  I shook uncontrollably.  Over an hour, the length of spasm slowly decreased and the respite got longer.  Caroline came out from the back where she was keeping Adelaide occupied and dug through our medicine cabinet for me.  She got out a vial of Oxycodone that remained from a concussion a few months earlier.  I prayed the Oxycodone would put me to sleep, as it had done the few times taken it before.  It didn't.  But it did allow me to relax in a drug-induced trance.  After five hours, the spasms completely subsided.  I tried to move from the kitchen floor but couldn't, the pain too unbearable, my muscles too weak.  I remained on the kitchen floor till early in the afternoon when, after taking another dose of Oxycodone, I crawled into the living room and collapsed onto the floor.

The aftermath of the spasm was both short and long-term.  In the short-term, I couldn't walk for two days and needed a cane for the week after that.  I went to see my doctor, two chiropractors, and my acupuncturist during that week - but the cause of the spasm was undetermined and all treatments did not produce noticeable relief.  In the long-term, my lower back felt fragile and vulnerable.  The sight and smell of waffles nauseated me, and without a diagnosis for the cause of the spasm, I feared a reprise virtually every day.  

The Depths of Illness - Irritability

2005 - Present:

Ingrid is living in Boston. I am visiting. She comes home after work. I'm sitting on the couch. She leans over to kiss me. I pull away. My face is sensitive. I'm hot. I'm annoyed. I have no idea why. Nothing bad happened. I felt good relative to how I normally feel. Ingrid tries to talk to me. I am annoyed by the questions about my day. It is difficult for me to answer. I want to tell her to leave me alone. I know I am being irrational, but I can't break my mood. It lasts for days on end.

My mood spills over into work. I grumble under my breath when asked to do anything. My boss, who is friends Ingrid, notices and asks how I'm doing. I can't stand the questions. One morning I show up to work at the time my boss asked. He shows up a few minutes later. I am irate that he was the slightest bit late. I struggle to keep my anger under control.

Ingrid and I move to San Diego. I look for a job without success. Ingrid tries to make suggestions. I can't believe her audacity. We argue. We start to cook in our small kitchen. I do not feel well. My abdomen hurts. I cannot think straight. At some point, I want to move from here to there but Ingrid is in my way. I ask her to move but am too impatient to wait for her to respond. I shove her aside. She runs off crying.

Ingrid and I fly to New Zealand. I get ill. Ingrid takes care of me. I resent the care. She asks me how I am. I resent the questions. She brings me dinner. I resent the food. We go to the hospital. I am irritated with the doctors. I can't make decisions. I feel helpless.

I cannot control the irritability. It comes. It goes. I feel guilty for being annoyed and acting childish. I feel like I'm pushing people away. I don't know how to stop.