On Writing Through The Pain—Literally

Here’s a dispatch from smack dab in the middle of 4 years of chronic pain past self me. I somehow, some which way, wrote it, prolly while eating my weight in chocolate pudding and coming down off of some super sweet ass nerve blocker whose side effects included:

  • Twitching
  • Slapping my mom’s hand out of mouth
  • There’s a murderer outside waiting for me to fall to sleep and then stab me to death so I def should not go to sleep
  • The eating and eating of chocolate pudding
  • More nerve pain
  • Suicidal thoughts
  • Screaming in my sleep
  • SO SO many other things

I’ve since had a major miracle spinal surgery that worked.
It worked!!!!!
So, dry your tears and read about the abject terror that is Chronic Nerve Pain.


“Let’s kidnap him.” B, upon spotting my pain management doc, while we searched for place to park. I think he was eating yogurt. Possibly GoGurt.

Doc told me on Friday after months of tests and visits that my pain is neuropathic and peripheral nerve pain because of the damage in my spine and that the only treatment is meds.

So they are going to throw a bunch of nerve inhibitors and muscle relaxants in my face, inject my spine, and do traction on my neck. If all that doesn’t work, they are going to put me on opiates.

While he was talking to me about my chronic pain never going away, I could feel myself shrinking and my voice disappearing. I wanted to run out of the room. I could barely stay in my seat. I wanted to fly through the ceiling and out into space. I didn’t speak more than 10 words for the next 6 hours after the appointment. Yesterday was a hurricane of trying to push through and stay light and a massive throwing angry tantrum, followed by another panic attack.

Today I was a machine. Following the patterns and habits of who Sarah is supposed to be.

I understand that there are more options. Eastern medicine and natural medicine. I also understand that I will never cook professionally again. All that training and clawing my way to the top was worth NOTHING. And, that after 2 years of 24/7 pain in my arms, there really is no end in sight and the end in sight is scary scary fucking meds and possibly scary scary opiates.

don’t tell me that this is an opportunity for a new chapter. I know that it is. It’s a portal to chapters and volumes and new and old and wisdom. I fucking know this. I know this. I think I can I think I can I think I can. I will.

I just had to vent because my despair is real. And all the shock and anger and panic has increased my pain 100 fold.

I don’t have kids. I don’t have a husband or partner. I don’t have a career. I don’t have pets.

I’m hanging on for my friends and family. I’m hanging on for pride.

I want the day to come where I am hanging on for me.

go Broncos I guess.

Thank you for being here
I am extremely grateful for this space.

photo of the night sky with a quote from this blog post overlaid.

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