“Too young.”

That is a phrase I have heard a lot in different contexts since I’ve been dealing with chronic illness.  I’ve been told I’m “too young to be this sick”, “too young to have to use a wheelchair”, and “too young to have to use a walker”.  Most recently I was told I’m “too young to increase my dose of pain meds” by my pain management specialist.

I went to my monthly pain management specialist appointment last week.  I’ve been having a lot more pain some days lately.  Stabbing pain in my joints that wake me from sleep and make me gasp in pain when I walk (but yes I’m still walking 99% of the time!).  I went to my appointment with the hope that I would get some relief.  But my doctor felt that I am “too young” to increase my pain meds.  I left feeling disappointed, a little angry, and still in pain.

On one hand I understand her concern.  If I have to keep increasing my pain meds now, what will I do in five, ten, or twenty years for my chronic pain?  What will I do if I end up in the hospital with an acute flare of Autoimmune Pancreatitis which is extremely painful and no pain meds will work anymore?

But on the other hand, I’m in pain now.  And despite what people what people might say, the unfortunate reality is that I’m not “too young” to be in this much pain.  And my age doesn’t make my pain any less painful or any less valid.  And my age especially doesn’t make my pain any less deserving of treatment.

Overall I’ve been happy with my pain specialist doctor.  I’m grateful that she is willing to prescribe me pain medication at all.  I went through several doctors before her who flat out refused to treat me because of my age.

The crux of the problem I think is that chronic pain is invisible.  No one can see my pain.  My pain specialist doctor certainly can’t.  Only I can feel it.  However, though my pain is invisible, I certainly am not.  And I cannot let my invisible pain (nor any of my other invisible illnesses) make me feel invisible.

So what do I do?

I need to speak up for myself and advocate for myself more.  I cannot let myself feel intimidated about telling my pain specialist that I disagree with her decisions.  If I shrink back and keep this to myself, I make myself invisible as my pain.

I also need to share my experience with the people in my life, so they can understand what I’m going through.  I’m not talking about whining about being in pain, but, in the appropriate settings, tell the people in my life what it feels like physically and emotionally to be in my shoes.  Part of that is this blog.  Sharing my journey on this blog helps me feel empowered and lets me make my invisible illness visible.

The bottom line is I am “too young” for just one thing… I am “too young” to let this beat me!

This week is Invisible Illness Awareness Week!  Nearly 1 in 2 people live w/ a chronic condition, most of them invisible. If it’s not you, it’s someone you love.  Help spread the word!

Fear.

Fear that I will end up back in the hospital.

Fear and OCD are a bad combination.  It’s bad enough to have a fearful thought in your head, but with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder you just can’t forget it.

I was woken by pain on Monday morning at 6am.  I felt like I was being stabbed in my left lower back and side.  An all too familiar pain.  The pain of a kidney infection.  AGAIN.  I’ve had far too many kidney infections the last few years.  Several of them have resulted in extended hospitalizations of a month or longer.  So to feel this familiar pain filled me with dread.

That is how the fear started.

I called my doctor as soon as the office opened.  He opted to put me right on antibiotics over the phone.  The first day was truly miserable.  I was in so much pain and my breakthrough pain meds were barely taking the edge off.  Yesterday I seemed to be feeling a tiny bit better.  But today I spiked a fever.

Not good.

Now the fear was escalating.  This infection was not heading in the right direction.  Instead it was following the well worn path that leads to the hospital.

I called my doctor who had me go get a urinalysis done to see where the infection is at.  I’ll get the result tomorrow.  The culture won’t be back though for a few days.

Now I wait and try not to let the fear take over.  But my thoughts are wanting to spiral out of control.

Kidney infection leads to hospital.

Hospital leads to latex exposure.

Latex exposure leads to anaphalaxsis.

Anaphalaxsis leads to another stay in the ICU.

Not fun.

Not fun at all.

Mental illness can sure make it more difficult to deal with a chronic illness.  But I’m trying to calm my thoughts.  Trying to channel my OCD into other happier obsessions.  But really I just want to cry because, though I try, sometimes I just can’t put a happy spin on life with a chronic illness.  Sometimes it’s not inspiring or uplifting.  Sometimes there’s no bigger picture.  Sometimes there’s no underlying lesson to be learned.  Sometimes it just sucks.

Sometimes I’m not a novel patient.  Sometimes I’m just a scared girl who doesn’t want to end up back in the hospital for the umpteenth time.