Tag Archives: nerve pain

Dec 28 2015
4 Comments
My Ramblings

Standing Up For Sitting Down

sittingChristmas, I salute you.

It’s practically mandatory to sit down all day, watch old black and white films, gorge on chocolate and generally do not very much at all.

I love it.

Sadly though, I also have a short story (experimental and transgressive, gah) and a critical reflection piece to write.

Looking on the bright side however, it just means I get to sit down some more, only this time at my desk (after shoving the cat off the chair). Plus adequate supplies of chocolate and an old film playing in the background, the tv turned towards me.

Or that was the plan.

The Teenager has taken to his phone to communicate with me by text throughout the festivities and subsequent academic struggles:

‘I’m awake!!!’

‘Lovely dear. It’s 2pm’.

‘Mum?’

‘What?’

(Teenager sends through five screen shots of tops he wants to buy with his Christmas money)

‘Preference?’

‘I’m trying to write an essay’.

‘I like the red one. You?’

‘Very nice’.

‘Mum! What’s the best one? Is there toast in the house?’

‘The red one is nice. There’s bread in the freezer’.

‘Muum, muuuum, wanna make me toast? Because you wuv me? With honey? Jam if it’s easier?’

And so on and so on.

I’ve looked at all the study guides, and they recommend taking breaks after twenty or thirty minutes. So every half hour I sort out the laundry, organise the shopping list, vacuum, feed and play with the cat (I stupidly bought her a laser toy), dust, catch up on paperwork and sort out the recycling. Then I get back to the essay.

I suddenly have a wonderful idea, linking a little-known theory to my essay. I jot down notes, feel inspired, hover over the keyboard …’

A text.

I can’t help it. I look.

‘Have you seeeeen this?????’

(A short film or ‘gif’ of a rabbit doing a high-five, over and over again)

My wondrous literary thought (which could have changed the literary world) has disappeared, never to be retrieved. I save my paltry document and give in to the inevitable.

I resume my default On The Sofa position, controller handy, legs tucked up (MS nerve pain is a nightmare), bowl of chocolate within reach and a book at my side.

I scroll through my tv recordings. Ah. Aiden Turner, in an Agatha Christie locked-room mystery. Of course, I am compelled to watch it for, ahem, research. It’s based on a very, very famous novel.

I settle down.

Ping. Text.

‘Mum. Guess what?’

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Oct 12 2015
8 Comments
Symptoms and Treatment

Nerve-Jangling

nervesEvery late-afternoon, just as the sun begins to set, I have an overwhelming urge to take off all my clothes.

Sadly, this has nothing to do with a new-found interest in naturism or a desire to embrace my post-40 body, flabby bits and all.

I don’t find myself in front of the mirror chanting positive affirmations while gazing deep inside my soul.

It’s much more pedestrian than that – it’s an MS symptom. Mind you, that sounds quite weird so I’ll explain.

For the last two weeks I’ve had the most hideous nerve pain. I’m well-used to this in my legs, my feet and those occasions where it comes and goes in my arms and hands. It’s my constant nemesis. But this time the pain has been cranked up to the level where it hurts to have clothing next to my skin, a bit like a case of very bad sunburn.

Not only that, any kind of pressure is torture, so I spend my evenings alternating between sitting bolt upright on the sofa or wandering around the house like a lost soul, tripping over the cat.

Every morning when the nerve levels are manageable once more I think, ‘gah, must have been imagining it, tsk, silly me’. I get through the day, catch up on university reading (still struggling, still bewildered), attempt to pin-down The Teenager for more than three minutes to find out what he’s been up to (apparently we live in the same house, though you wouldn’t think it).

And just as I begin to relax, start to slough off the challenges of the day, blam, there it is. As if every single nerve ending is a burning needle. I’ve tried billowy t-shirts and baggy sweat-pants, I’ve tried a kaftan (yup, and luckily The Teenager was out that night). I’ve tried slathering myself in moisturiser as some kind of barrier cream but ended up sticking to my clothes.

I’m hoping it’ll pass and doesn’t become a permanent feature of my life. I know I quite fancied myself as a tortured writer, starving in my garret, but this isn’t quite the way I had planned it.

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Feb 24 2015
2 Comments
Symptoms and Treatment

Pass Me The Spanner, Numpty

beautifulA most interesting day at work, what with the higher dose of Pregabalin settling down – it was a bit like ER, with The Builder subtly creating all the drama:

‘Spanner’

‘Yup, Boss.’

‘Snips.’

‘Yup, Boss.’

‘Hammer.’

‘Yup, Boss.’

‘Tape’.

‘Well, I have The Best of The 80’s?’ or ‘Simon and Garfunkle’.

‘Plumbing tape, you numpty’.

‘Yup, Boss. Just joking.’

And so it continued. I floated around, munching on granola bars and slurping endless cups of coffee (mine was the pink ‘Hello Kitty’ mug, the Boss got the ‘Mr Busy’ one). I seem to be having a mini-relapse since upping the Pregablin dose – my hands moving a few seconds too late or too early, feet not moving properly or dragging, dropping things and generally feeling spaced out.

A few hours later, we wrapped it up and I was dropped off at home.

The most important thing is, my nerve pain has been reduced drastically and it’s a feeling that goes way beyond relief – the nagging, crawling, aching pain in my legs every evening, making the smallest tasks impossible, has been knocked back down to just my feet. Which isn’t brilliant, but a whole lot better than before.

I can now stand up properly when The Teenager gets back from school, and look semi-parent like. I no longer lie on the sofa all evening, dreading getting up. I can read a book without the constant, nagging pain pulsing away, ruining everything.

The downside is I still feel as if I’m trapped in a marshmallow cushion. I can’t concentrate. I am very, very slow. Everything is now somehow wondrous. When I cooked pesto pasta for The Teenager this evening, I spent an inordinate amount of time just staring at the sauce after I took the lid off. So green, so pesto-y, so, well, wondrous.

I’m sure it’ll pass and my mind will realign itself with my body again (by the weekend, PLEASE). But for now, as my body refuses to do what I command it to and my mind is somewhere completely different, I will make the most of stopping to pick up leaves from the garden, turning them over and marvelling at their unique patterns, and allow myself to admire the beautiful, brown, shiny spheres that are … Maltesers. Beautiful.

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Feb 22 2015
6 Comments
Symptoms and Treatment

Floating In A Most Peculiar Way

FloatingI had a consultation with my fabulous neurologist last month and we got round to discussing meds.

When the bullying started at work, I began a low-ish dose of anti-depressants (Citalopram) and they helped a lot. They got me through everything, including the legal case that followed and coming to terms with my diagnosis.

Two years down the line, I wanted to come off them as life is much, much better now, brilliant in fact, but was worried about how I’d feel. Would the pity-parties-for-one return with a vengeance? Would my Wotsit consumption multiply?

At the same time, the nerve pain in my legs and feet has increased and we discussed upping my Pregabalin dose. Luckily, Pregabalin can also be used for anxiety, so coming off the Citalopram could be a lot easier.

I then saw my GP who recommended decreasing the Citalopram gradually, i.e. moving to alternate days before cutting out completely. Sounded good?

Well, after a week I felt like death warmed up; inexplicably unmotivated, fed up, grumpy. I got worried.

Guess what? MS cog fog strikes again – I have a meds box I fill every week as I can’t be doing with faffing about with packets of pills every day. I diligently cut down the dose and popped one in the box every other day, completely forgetting I took two a day. So I basically reduced my dose by 75% overnight.

Anyway, I started the increased of Pregabalin yesterday and I don’t know if it’s psychological, but already the nerve pain has dropped dramatically. It is bliss. Unfortunately, they also made me float away quite alarmingly and lose track of where my feet where.

I went on a shopping trip with my mum. We wandered around, chatting, catching up until she said,

‘You ok dear? You seem a bit, um, odd. You’re walking funny.’

‘I’m floating! Floating. Feels kind of nice. Whoops. I meant to bump into that flower display you know. And the loo-roll pyramid.’

‘Quick, take my arm, there’s a small child in your way and you’re stumbling all over the place.’

The toddler, who was splayed on the floor, crying and drumming his feet was saved by my mum’s speedy actions. I waved at him and smiled, recalling The Teenager doing the exact same thing not so long ago.

When I got home with my shopping (a framed black-and-white picture of some empty park benches, a couple of books, a bowl and a fridge magnet), I gently bobbed on to the sofa and nodded off.

Cutting out the Citalopram is like severing the final link to a horrendous 2012 – it feels empowering. As for the floaty feeling, it’s still with me, but I’m sure it’ll settle down in the next couple of days, but for now, it’s a cushion, and it’s rather nice.

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Apr 20 2013
8 Comments
Symptoms and Treatment

Getting On My Nerves…

special offerIt’s been a stressful week and stress plus MS equals a spike in symptoms.

I have tried everything to stay serene and in control – deep breathing, chocolate, mindfulness, two episodes of Mad Men.

The deep breathing made me feel a bit silly, the chocolate nudged the scales up,  The ‘Power of Now’ was the ‘Power of Not-Right-Now’ and as for Mad Men, well, two episodes are never enough.

For me, it’s mostly an increase in nerve pain. Ever tried describing nerve pain to the uninitiated? Burning, tingling, numbness, crawling, aching doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Tingling sounds delightful, numbness sounds painless, crawling sounds weird and we all ache, don’t we? Just like we all get tired.

It’s been driving me round the twist all week and as always with MS, it doesn’t come alone. It’s the great MS special offer – ‘get one symptom, get three free’. So, as well as the nerve pain, there’s the fatigue, the wonkier walking, the hands that’d be better suited to a Greek taverna. Smashed plates? Yup, as well as my last proper grown up wine glass and yet another chip in yet another bowl.

I lay awake most of last night listening to Izzy miaow loudly. For a tiny cat, she’s got a huge set of lungs. The Teenager got up and shut his door and I was left to ponder the cobwebs on the ceiling and listen to a group of drunk woman sing ‘Simply The Best’ outside my window at 1.30 am. The pain was excruciating and made even more unbearable as my legs started to jerk and twitch.

I wasn’t sure if it was like being possessed by a malevolent spirit (The Exorcist sprang to mind in the wee small hours) or being stretched on a rack. Only problem was, I couldn’t get up and go downstairs as new cat Izzy would think it was perfectly normal to sit in the kitchen listening to the shipping forecast before sunrise. I was trapped and the women outside moved on to a Tom Jones medley, a tortuous backdrop to insane pain.

Action plan for the weekend – rescue ‘The Power of Now’ book from the corner I flung it in to, lie on the sofa with a huge bag of crisps and a relaxing face-pack on and chant, ‘this too shall pass’ over and over and over again…

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