Emily Wingate
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua.
1
I began having migraines when I was 10 years old. I got mono when I was 16 and the fatigue was crushing and never seemed to abate. After giving birth at 20, the fatigue got even worse, but now I had a new tiny human to care for so I doubled down on self-discipline to finish my degree. It took several years to complete my bachelor’s, but I did. At age 29, I was working 2 jobs and began experiencing pain in my left knee. I’d always chalked it up to an old sports injury, but then my right knee began hurting. Then my hips. The pain continued to accumulate in all of my large and small joints. I was wearing knee and elbow braces, back braces and arthritis gloves. My doctor told me to quit one of my jobs. I did. And then I slowly but surely cut down my hours on my other job until, at the age of 30, I was unemployed and bedridden by this mysterious pain.
2
I grew up in St. Louis, but married and had a child with a man from Indianapolis when I was in college. When I got sick to the point of being unable to hold down a job, my family in St. Louis urged me to move back home for a time so that we could get me fixed up and back on my feet. My son was 9 at this time. I reluctantly agreed, but my ex-husband and his wife would not allow me to bring my son over state lines, so I had to make the impossible choice. I knew I needed the support of family in order to figure out what was going on and ultimately made the heart-wrenching decision to temporarily move back to St. Louis. Little did I know that I’d be put through what I call “the specialist shuffle”, which is when the rheumatologist says, “Hm, I don’t know” and sends me to the neurologist who says, “Hm, not sure what’s going on” who then sends me to the cardiologist who says, “Yeah, maybe it’s just anxiety”, who then sends me on to the psychiatrist who says, “Hm, maybe it’s conversion disorder” and when it’s shown that it’s not, the cycle, the shuffle, starts all over again. And because it can take months to see a specialist, this is a long, long process. What was only supposed to be a few months ended up being 4 years. And during those 4 years in St. Louis (I moved back to Indy when my son was 13, and then back to St. Louis when he graduated high school), I cashed out my meager savings, my small retirement fund (both of which were depleted in the first year for medical expenses), applied for disability, and became accustomed to living in extreme poverty.
3
I was put on opioids pretty soon after I began experiencing the joint pain. I never felt bad about it until a few years ago when there was a media frenzy regarding “The Opioid Epidemic”. And to be truthful, I still don’t feel bad about it. Doctors prescribed them to me for 10 years, so why would I question that? But, like so many others, I was forced off of them a few years ago. I was angry and confused about it. I never felt addicted, but I knew for sure, just by the nature of the drug, that my body had grown dependent on them. What made the least sense to me, was that the doctors at that time were offering no alternative. And please understand- opioids were not my only means of pain management throughout those years (or the years since). I have tried numerous healing modalities. I was lucky enough to find skilled and caring practitioners who offered some free/low-cost services to me along the way. Some of those include personal yoga instruction, acupuncture, myofascial release massage, and healing touch therapy. I have also done physical therapy, steroid injections, mental health therapy, and non-opioid pain medications, which my insurance covered. This is, by all means, not an exhaustive list in my quest for making my life with chronic pain more bearable. As I was being taken off opioids, I was referred to a Pain Management clinic where the doctor accused me of being addicted to them. I spoke up and reminded him that I never took more than prescribed, that doctors had been prescribing them to me and I wasn’t getting them illegally, and that there is a difference between addiction and dependence. He took a moment to think about it and then said that I was right. I was kind of floored- I wasn’t used to doctors listening to me. But I was glad I spoke up- it was the beginning of me feeling more confident in advocating for myself. That can be empowering, especially for a chronic pain patient.