mud, motherhood and meaning

I was a volleyball player and was not about to give that up. It was my life. It was the only true constant for me. And, I was good.

Eventually, the issue progressed to not only wearing braces during play, but to being taped under my braces. I could still roll an ankle. It didn’t seem to matter how much support we added. I even started falling, or one leg would give out, while walking. I just kept right on walking. Ha!

High school came and then I blew out my elbow. Welcome to a whole new set of issues! I tore my UCL in my right elbow. I am right-handed. I had to learn to write left-handed, or type all my homework; math included. I lived with my elbow basically unattached for a year. We tried physical and occupational therapy to strengthen the muscles to hold the joint. We taped it every day. My dad would be waiting on me in the mornings before school to tape it up.

I remember the night it happened; a Thursday. I dove for the ball. My fist jammed into the gym floor. My wrist drove hard up into my arm setting off a chain-reaction. The pain wasn’t immense, at first. I kept playing. I may have been up to serve next. I finished the game. Afterwards, another mom, a nurse, came down and said she didn’t think anything was broken. That night, it just so happened, my mom and boyfriend were both at the gym (not typical of me to have supporters). They attempted to straighten my arm. One held me while the other tried to move my arm. The pain was immeasurable.

I was taken to the ER the next morning. They said I had a bone bruise. They weren’t wrong. I did. I had a nice lump, but my arm was visibly crooked. It took awhile to see someone that actually knew what they were doing. The specialist did stress x-rays. DO NOT RECOMMEND. Lord, those were the worst x-rays of my life. I think three people were involved. They were opening the elbow joint to see how far it moved.

The one other prominent memory from that injury, prior to surgery, is my dad telling me to eat right-handed while at the table. I couldn’t move my arm. I kept it bent and up against me all the time. I tried to use a fork. I moved my head to my hand. He wasn’t impressed. But, the deal had always been…”If you complain, you have to quit.” I was not about to complain.

Fast forward, after my first daughter was born, the pain throughout my entire body was too much. I felt like I had been run over. And, from that point on, everything hurt, almost all the time.

My knees started to hurt all the time. I was sent to physical therapy and told my kneecaps didn’t track correctly. I did PT for months at a time, took a break, and then went back again.

No scans ever showed any issues with my knees. I was told time and time again that I was fine. I had chronic back pain; low back pain. I had knots in my shoulders, at the base of my neck, that no one could explain. I went to the chiropractor frequently and he was just as stunned.

Bloodwork never explained anything. I felt swollen and stiff all over. My hands, my fingers, wrists, legs, hips, knees, ankles…back. I was tested for carpal tunnel and told I was fine. My hands, sometimes my arms, still go numb while I am sleeping. Eventually, I was told that I “probably had fibromyalgia.” I never took that to heart, nor did I seek an actual diagnosis.

I was sent to a pain clinic where the doctor did nothing to explore the cause of my back and sacroiliac joint pain. However, he was eager to shoot me up with steroids. I took it. I wanted some relief. I got those injections several times in my SI joints and, maybe, twice in my back. The excruciating pain I was in after the last attempt at relief pushed me over the edge. I stopped everything. I stopped the injections, prescription pain medications and muscle relaxers. I stopped it all. No one cared. It was clear.

After, in total, thirteen years of daily pain, an ortho doctor finally told me I had hip dysplasia and was most likely born with it. It took about five minutes and he used scans from a different hospital where I had been told I was FINE. My left hip joint was so bad that it had to be totally replaced. I was 34. Today, my right hip needs done. The pain is becoming unbearable.

Not only do I have leg pain, but widespread pain, in general. The TMJ has been flaring recently, due to stress most likely. My hands and fingers feel tight and swollen most of the time, and these giant knots at the base of my neck are still present. Like, it all just gets old and is normal. Annoying and frustrating.

The silver lining….we recently found out my two oldest daughters have POTS. Is this good? No. Does this help us find answers? Yes. With POTS, comes other things…such as EDS, or hypermobility.

What does that mean? Loose joints. Pain. Inflammation. Arthritis. All the things I have dealt with most of my life. Do I have it? No idea. Is it possible? Yes.

My dad spent most of his life in pain, also. I always chalked it up to his overall health and having multiple surgeries for clotted/blocked arteries. Now, looking back, the back pain, leg pain, hip pain…maybe it was not related at all. Maybe it was more. Maybe there is a familial genetic link here. We won’t ever truly know because he and all his siblings are gone now. My dad was a leaner…leaned on the counter, shopping carts…always a leaner because he was in pain. He couldn’t walk through a grocery store until I was grown. He couldn’t sit on the bleachers in the gym to watch games, or chase balls in the yard. Now, I am a leaner. Always leaning and always trying. to convince myself I can be stronger if I choose to be. (Side note: I always prayed to take my dad’s pain away so he could feel better. I got that wish towards the end of his life. Now, my fourteen year old says the same thing to me. I. hate. this.)

The reality is….pain is exhausting. It sucks the life out of you, no matter how hard you try to manage it. I do not even take over-the-counter medications anymore. Nothing works. I don’t see the point. Every day is just another day with something going on…

I hate that my kids are struggling, too. But, I am glad that we are finding answers and resources for them now instead of later in life. I would love to prevent them from having joint replacements or severe injuries if we can.

I was told when I blew out my elbow that I may never be able to hold my children. I wouldn’t have chosen surgery had I not been told that. I would have continued to play volleyball and simply suffered. My oldest daughter has the same mentality. I cannot even get upset with her because I totally get it.

Some things are just worth the pain.

I have learned how to get through my days. Some are much easier than others. Some are spent with ice or a heating pad and not much else.

I do believe are bodies were made to heal. We need the right information, resources, tools, and access. Unfortunately, those things are not always affordable or within reach.

I have crawled around my house to take care of kids. I have had my kids help me with more than I care to share, sometimes. We all do whatever we need to do to get through.

My oldest daughter recently said she didn’t realize people just felt good. Like, when you wake up, do you feel good? Or, do you immediately feel everything? We feel every single thing, and it typically hurts. We both thought it was normal. Like, what even is normal? Your body doesn’t hurt all day every day? Weird. What’s that like? This isn’t like, “Oh, I worked out too hard yesterday and I’m sore.” My body feels like that from walking up a flight of stairs. I could be sore for days from normal activities. It is stupid. Seriously.

Physical pain really takes a toll on mental health, too. I have spent literal years feeling unworthy, or, useless. Like, I can manage the home and whatnot, but why does it hurt so much? I can do it. I can. And, I do. Some days, I even do MORE. I, also, like to prove I am capable. It makes me feel small to be in so much pain from doing so little. It really does.

I wish there was a way to change that.