You Can't See Me

I fell asleep last night, OK, this morning feeling the familiar tug across my tummy and through my tailbone. It made sleep difficult. Not because it hurt, but because I'm not sleeping at home. I'm currently bunking at the In-Laws, thanks to the stubborn antics of our car. What does that have to do with the price of tea in China? A LOT. That tug is a warning. I've been woken by the pain before, and not in the quiet, "OMG there's an alien eating it's way out of me, better be quiet not to wake everyone else while I suffer" way. I wake up SCREAMING. The first time it happened, it terrified my son and the Hub. I didn't even register that it was me making all the noise for a few seconds. So, no, when I feel that tug at bed time, I'm terrified that the scream awake is going to happen again. This time it would have happened at the In-Laws house. And, I'm sorry, but I'm not ready for those looks. You know the ones. The oh you poor thing looks. I dodged that bullet this time. But not the pain. It's easing, right now. But, it still hurts.

Now, here's the thing that kills me. I've been feeling this for many years. It's been sporadic, and usually only happened every few months or so. Then it began to increase and started showing it's ugly face every month. Then every week. Now it's every day. Some days are worse than others. It took YEARS for any doctor to figure out why. Then there's the Fibromyalgia that also took a while to figure out. But not nearly as long as this. Why did it take so long? Because it's invisible.For a very long time many doctors were firm in their belief that if it didn't show up on an x-ray, MRI or CT, then it didn't exist. That it was "all in your head". Then they started using heat imaging to determine pain levels. Mine looked like a red and orange leopard. Somewhere along the lines, doctors started to understand. They recognized my Fibro, but, there was still something that perplexed them. We know what it is now, but I'm not going into that. I will say that I have something call Coccydynia that it aggravates on a regular basis. I'd rather redeliver all 4 spawn at once than feel this pain.

As to the Fibro, I have to say, Lyrica has been a God send. As of now, we're substituting with Neurontin, since Lyrica is so expensive. But, it works just as well. Maybe even better.
Now, here's what I'm tired of: people who don't believe you could POSSIBLY hurt that much.  People who want to believe that you're just being lazy. People who think you're a hypochondriac. People who think that pain must be SEEN. If there's no broken bone, open wound, visible cause, then it must not exist. Worst of all, that we are just weak. You can't see my pain, therefore there is no pain, I'm just being a lazy little wuss. Let me tell you something, folks. I worked my ass off, ninety plus hours a week, as a caregiver. I was dealing with the pain of others, helping them live their lives, while I was dying inside. I did everything I needed to do for my patient, my family, my pets, my household in general, all while hurting and exhausted, both mentally and physically. Does that make me a lazy, wuss, hypochondriac? No, it make me a strong woman. Stronger than you can ever know, because you can't see it. There are thousands of others out there, just like me. We suffer daily. Every morning is a struggle to get out of bed for oh, so many reasons.

We wake up in pain. We don't want to roll out of bed because moving is going to be so hard. That's if we woke up at all. Most of us are still awake. Guess what these invisible illnesses tote along with them? INSOMNIA! Worst door prize EVER! So, that adds another reason to stay in bed. We're just so damned tired. Now, we're moody too. You know, quite a few of us hate ourselves. Not just because of how we feel physically, but also because of how it makes us act. We're cranky little bitches! I don't like me when I'm cranky, I can't see how anyone else could either. The poor Hub has been the target of my moodiness, more often than not. Thank God for staying power. Most of us have stomachs that hate us, as well. Food either doesn't stay in or comes out with a liquid bang the next morning. Yay...poops. Always the damn poops. I don't like poop.

We feel this already. Don't make it worse.

Then there's the effect it has on the people close to us. We worry about them getting tired of dealing with it all and just running away, if they have that option. We worry about us stressing them out. We worry about their worry. We worry. And, please, folks, don't use the dreaded retort "You never feel good" or "You're always sick", when someone you love says they hurt. You have no idea how badly those words effect us. They make is feel like shit. Like wee little subhumans, not worth the air we breathe. Not cool.

You see my face. You hear my words. You don't feel what I feel, you can't understand my pain unless you feel it too. There's more to me than what shows on the outside. If you can't understand it all, can't learn to see it all, you can't see me.