A Pain In The Drain

09 May

Early this morning I had the worst pain that I’ve had since the first time I tried to get out of bed at the hospital. I don’t know how I managed it either. As I was getting into bed, somehow I caught the hose of the drain up under me and it got pulled on. HARD. The pain was unbelievable, ranking right up there with giving birth to my first child.

After 10 minutes of laying there trying not to breathe too deeply I finally reached over and woke Ken. I really was convinced that I had torn something open and not necessarily the stitch holding in the drain. I thought I had ripped open part of my back, from what I was feeling. He took a look and fortunately found no such stitch ripping anywhere.

And so went my 4 am bedtime adventure.

Getting in and out of bed are feats of gymnastics as it is. In order to minimize movement, I have developed methods for getting in and out of bed that evoke less pain. Getting IN to bed, I line up with where I want my lower back to be when it hits the pile of pillows I’m still sleeping propped up on. Then, standing with my calves pressed up against the bed frame, I lift up on my toes and very gently toss myself backwards. Then I’ll lift up my left leg and bring it into alignment with my left hip, followed by my right. Occasionally I’m a bit off so I’ll gently scooch backwards using the “butt cheek crawl” method. That consists of inching back one tush cheek at a time by digging in a heel and gingerly pushing myself backwards into the awaiting pile of pillows..

Getting out is just as much of an adventure, if not more-so. When I get up I’m usually stiff, cramped and in a little bit of pain because only the leading edge of the pain pill has done its job thus far. Rolling is, by far, the easiest way to get out of bed. I simply slide my right leg off the edge of the bed and lean slightly on my right shoulder. Then I follow with my left leg and slowly slide until my right foot is firmly on the floor. Then using my right hand, I’ll push up SLOWLY on the corner of my end table letting my left foot touch the floor. Then, in slow, tiny increments I’ll push myself upright. It’s at that point during the inching and the actual achievement of an upright status that the pain really starts to flare up and hit its peak. By the time I’m sitting up, my body needs a few minutes to adjust. It also takes a few minutes for the pain level to drop so that I can breathe. It’s also during that stage that I get the feeling that there’s an elephant with barbed wire boots standing on my chest. Either that or some jackass has smacked me in the chest with a Cricket bat. Surprisingly the place in my chest that I feel it the most is in my cleavage.

I’m still hopeful that people in a similar condition will find this blog and, more importantly, find it to be useful information. During my initial stages I couldn’t find a single photo of necrotic breast tissue so I had no idea what I was dealing with. That’s the reason I try to talk about this entire experience at least somewhat candidly. So that someone else who is scared and feeling very alone knows You Are Not Alone. Someone else has been through this before you. And of course I will always be happy to answer any questions. Just ask.


2 responses to “A Pain In The Drain

  1. ajackson (@antitheistangie)

    October 25, 2011 at 11:25 pm

    I’m cackling over your description of the butt cheek inch. I’ve got a couple chronic pain disorders, and I couldn’t get out of bed for my last trimester of pregnancy. I had to roll (and some mornings six years later, still do!)


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