Yikes, what does that mean? Permanent aching?
We survived. So too shall you. The good news is once you go through it, very little can compare. You’ll always be like, ‘‘At least it’s not gallstones.’’
I don’t remember how this happened, but somehow I ended up following this man’s profile on Facebook, it was all about his son, who had sustained 3rd degree burns over the majority of his body. It was really detailed stuff, like in the beginning they weren’t even sure if he was going to be alive or dead, and then when he came out of it he had no idea what was going on, and then the pure agony of his recovery for months… I just kept following because burns are the most terrifying thing I can imagine, so it was like some way of facing my fear.
Also, as particular individuals these were remarkable people. His father expressed nothing but anguish for his son’s suffering and gratitude toward everyone supporting him. And the young man, upon coming out of his coma, immediately started talking about how he wanted to help burn survivors in the future. It was quite inspiring.
Anyway, I got all the way up to the part where he recovered well enough to go home. They had a big party for him and everything (I think he was a cop, and his father, who was making all the posts, was also a cop.) Super long, painful road ahead. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, much less someone so good.
But despite all the horror, it really left an impression on me about the resilience of humanity. People can endure so much terrible shit and carry on. And it also is a good lesson in impermanence. This man was truly in unbearable agony for months… but over time, the pain lessened. He learned to manage it. He got better.
Just something for consideration.
How did the cat fare?
Never had really intense physical pain, but mental? Getting kicked to the curb by my “BFF” when we were 16. Even losing a job I thought I was going to retire from several years ago wasn’t that painful.
That happened to me, too, and it was brutal. It took me nearly a decade to get over. He never gave me an explanation, but for some reason he fucking hates me, and he dumped me during the worst year of my entire life. It doesn’t help he still interacts with my friends and occasionally even visits my Aunt & Uncle. Although, my Aunt has noted he has a problem with ditching friends when their lives get hard. She thinks he’s just fucked in the head that way, which marginally helps to know.
We buried the hatchet a few years later, for a while, and then she got married and drifted out of my life. She had a baby a couple years later, and the first I knew she was pregnant was when I saw the birth announcement in the paper.
Anyway, the second time around, she wanted to fix me up with a married man :eek: :eek: :eek: :eek: :eek: :eek: and that is why I want nothing to do with her, 30 years later, and rejected her Facebook friend requests. :dubious: I have a feeling that she blocked me, and that’s OK because I want nothing to do with her.
worst physical pain for me is a toss-up between getting a fingertip cauterized and the time I wrenched my back.
worst emotional was divorce.
Fortunately I had left the toilet seat up, so he could get water. I also had a lot of house plants, which he ate and mostly puked. When I got home he was pretty much a wild animal for a while, but we both survived. To this day, I always leave the toilet seats up, just in case.
Physical- In 2005, a disc in my cervical spine (neck) ruptured and the one above it was severely herniated. For several months I had limited to no use of my right arm (and I’m right handed) and when it wasn’t numb and immobile, it felt like it was on fire! The disc compression on my spine was agonizing!
A surgical procedure called an ACDF (Anterior Cervical Discectomy & Fusion) was performed to correct the problem. Both discs were removed, the area between the vertebrae was filled with a mix of protein powder and bone material from my right hip and titanium plates and screws hold it all together.
Prior to the surgery, I was eating Oxycodone like candy (20+ per day) because I was in so much pain. When I woke from surgery, I was in pain from the operation but the spinal compression and related pain were gone. The surprise (at least to me) was that the cervical spine is accessed by cutting an opening on neck/throat, retracting the esophagus and trachea (and any other ‘plumbing’ in the way). I couldn’t swallow anything more than yogurt, mashed potatoes, soup and ice cream for almost two weeks.
Not a fun experience.
**
Mental/Psychological**- I lost my job very unexpectedly in May 2008. For the first time in my adult life, I wasn’t able to find another (often better) job immediately, as I had always done in the past. I took a few temp assignments and did some consulting work as an independent contractor, but as we entered the heart of the Great Recession, I couldn’t find a regular job! From early 2009 to mid 2010, I experienced a 16-month long Major Depressive Episode (formerly known as a ‘Nervous Breakdown’). There were numerous 48-72 hour periods that I only got out of bed to use the bathroom, then went right back to sleep. I kept myself knocked out with Valium, Xanax and Ambien all the time to avoid being conscious and having to deal with what was happeneing. I would often go 48 hours or more without eating, but somehow my fat ass only lost a few pounds!
In mid-2010, I pulled myself together, found a new doctor who prescribed effective anti-depressant and anti-anxiety meds and I fought my way back to the land of the living. I’m a different person now, more understandting and empathetic to those having a difficult time and especially people dealing with depression. Without the support of my parents (my mom and stepdad), I probably would have taken the easy way out (suicide). It was THAT bad! I was very fortunate that my house and my car were both paid off and I had no debt when this happened. My mom used a combination of my savings and their money to pay my utilities, groceries, insurance and other bills during those 16-months. She also kept my house clean and my stepdad kept my lawn mowed.
Most 34-35-year-old men don’t have parents who would do all of that. I’m very lucky and thankful for mine. My mom had to retire early at 59 due to arthritis in her thumb joints and several other joint conditions. I hate seeing my 62-year-old mom suffer, but I’m thankful that I have the opportunity to repay her for the kindness and love they both showed. I keep their house cleaned, help my stepdad mow their lawn every weekened and I find time to do any other projects that they want to do.
I posted above that a 16-month long ‘Major Depressive Episode’ (aka- Nervous Breakdown) was my most psychological pain I’ve ever experienced. That’s true in a sense, because it lasted for such a long time, but it was a long-term, ongoing problem.
This is going to sound odd/freakish/weird to some people, but the sudden and totally unexpected death of my cat in 12/2012 was the most pain I’ve ever felt at one moment. She got sick over the wekened, I took her to an Emergency Vet during the middle of the night on a Saturday/Sunday to learn that he she had a fatal disease called FIP (Feline Infectious Peritonitis). I made arrangements to take her to my vet first thing the next morning (Monday) to have her euthanized. She was 12-13 years old and had been my constant companion and cuddle buddy for 10.5 years.
I had to compartmentalize my feelings from the time of diagnosis around 2am on Sunday until 10am the following day at my vet’s office. I was in ‘robot’ mode, where I felt nothing and had a plan that I could not deviate from (because she was only going to get worse and would be suffering soon she lived any longer). I held her while they administered the drugs until they pronounced her dead. Then I completely lost it and started crying and hurting unlike anything I’d ever experienced. I know it had to be an odd (pathetic) spectacle to see a 38-year-old man in that condition, but who cares? My usually stoic and reserved veterinarian spent five minutes hugging and holding me, then one of the vet techs that I consider a friend spent over 30 minutes in the parking lot with me. I had to pull over twice during the 40-minute drive back home because I couldn’t see the road through the tears. I stayed out of work for a week.
It will be four years since she died in about three more months and I am still not over it! I hate to admit this, but losing the three people I loved most in the world (my grandmothers and my grandfather) didn’t hurt as much. She (Anna, my cat) is still the screen saver on my phone…
I guess I’ve been pretty lucky so far. My worst pains have been Charlie horses.
Heh. I said this in the ER once. I had a migraine so bad I was in a dark room, wearing earplugs, sweating, slowly rocking back and forth, pale with a greenish tinge, and generally feeling awful.
The doctor came in and asked what my pain score was. I said, “7 or 8.”
He looked surprised. “7 or 8?” (I must’ve really looked like shit.)
“I’ve had kidney stones. That’s my 9. I don’t want to know what 10 is, but I’m sure it exists. This is not as bad as kidney stones.”
No further comment. A minute later, the nurse came in with Demerol or something and a boatload of anti-nausea medication. Sweet, sweet relief.
I once hit the side of my mouth on a couch arm and had a tooth abscess break. NOTHING I’ve ever experienced, including snapping off my wrist bone, has been that painful.
Another vote for renal calculi on the physical side. Science be praised for IV painkillers.
Will not go into the emotional as I’d rather let it lie. The panic attacks lasted too long afterwards.
I sort of agree. Stopping to think about things, I tend to rank my worst migraines [the whole vomiting, photo and sound sensitivity] at about a 7 or 8 while my first ever pseudogout flair qualifies as my 10 standard. I love this comic about pain.
Me too. When my anxiety is at its worst I spend time thinking about what it would be like to be burned alive, or operated on without anesthesia. Even gallstones are comparatively not so bad.
IN addition to migraine, I also have Trigeminal neuralgia, and it ain’t called the Suicide Disease for nothing.
Mental: My sister had both bipolar disorder and borderline personality disorder, in addition to being the nastiest bitch ever, and tortured me for decades. I was later diagnosed with PTSD.
Physical: when my back blew up nine or ten years ago. I had no idea what back-pain people were talking about until it happened to me. There was minor throbbing for the previous few weeks until I was getting ready to go to work. I bent over to tie my shoe laces and bam! I was on the floor. It took me about 20 minutes to get from our front hall upstairs to our guest room (I couldn’t go the additional 15 feet to our master bedroom). I made it onto the bed, sideways, and it took me and my wife about 15 minutes to get me undressed and lying the right way on the bed.
I was like that for a week. If I had to go to the washroom I had to mentally rehearse everything. I could, just by anticipating the wrong move without doing anything, cause massive waves of pain. The pain, as it radiated in waves, almost felt visible it was so awful.
Mental: a couple of years of clinical, though functional, depression, with constant suicide ideation, about eight years ago.
Your feelings aren’t weird at all, at least, not to another cat person. I lost my cat Vincent in April 2015. He’d been sick with kidney problems since that January. He just kept declining no matter what we did. Near the end he started getting fecally incontinent, which was not just icky for us, I know it was very demeaning for him (he was a rather dignified cat). He passed away at home soon after that. My mom was holding him - I was too horrifed to get near him. I still feel bad about that.
For nearly a month I was devastated, even suicidal, sitting in my bed and crying. I don’t think I’d ever been that distressed before, and I have mental health issues to compare it to. I wanted another cat, but I felt guilty about wanting another cat, and I didn’t want to get one too soon, but I didn’t think I could wait…
At the end of April I started checking out the local humane society’s adoption pages. In particular, I found one cat I really liked. When we got to the humane society, we almost couldn’t find him! Turns out he was stressed and hiding under a blanket. Finally he peeked out, we got to meet with him, and adopted him! His name is Nemo, he is a Seal Point Siamese, and he is so fun.
I’m convinced Vincent directed us towards him when I was ready for another cat. 
A woman who had two young children told me that for her, she would rather have 20 babies in a row than go through physical therapy after a third-degree burn again, and it was only one joint that had scar tissue that needed to be broken up. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like for someone who was burned all over their body.
Pancreatitis. Not going to try to describe it.