The annoying endurance of chronic pain.

I suffer from chronic pain. My version is neuralgia. Neuralgia is a “stabbing, burning, and often severe pain due to an irritated or damaged nerve.” The nerve(s) can be anywhere in the body. Mine are in my head. I have troublesome left and right trigeminal nerves due to damage I sustained in a car accident twenty-three years ago.

I should’ve held out for a bigger insurance settlement.

Neuralgia is agonizing. I struggle to find words that will explain its full awfulness. Misery. Agony. Torture.

It’s like having a pickaxe slam into my head at random intervals twenty-four hours a day for close to a week, ten to twelve times a year. The pain is crazy-making.

I function when it flares. I take my pills. I get up. I go out. I do things. I write. I don’t exercise much, but I do carry on with life (albeit with a degree of bitching and moaning). But because I carry on, because I’m not prostrate and screaming, people start to think it’s not that bad.

And when I can’t pull it together, when I can’t rise above the pain to think much less function and beg off visits and plans, they get testy. There’s a downside to soldiering on. People fail to appreciate that there’s a struggle.

But what am I supposed to do? Take to my bed for a week every month or three weeks? Because that’s how often I get attacks. Ten to fifteen times a year, seven days at a time, for twenty-three years. Should I give up that much of my life to prove I suffer? What good would that do? How, exactly, would hiding out serve me?

Neuralgia is one of the leading causes of suicide among chronic pain sufferers. This doesn’t surprise. It’s utterly brutal.

There’s surgical treatment available. You can have the nerves severed. Possible side effects include trouble swallowing, trouble breathing, and facial paralysis. I have not signed up.

I get that other people’s problems are not our problems. We can’t fix everything for everyone, and my pain is my issue. I deal with it. But I wish, sometimes, that people wouldn’t assume I’m overreacting or have a low pain threshold. No, Susan, I’m not that desperate for attention. I’m not faking it when I flinch or courting drama when I involuntarily convulse. And yes, your cousin’s neighbour’s sister’s migraines sound awful too, and I’m glad giving up wheat helped.

I don’t need sympathy. Okay, maybe a little. Coddling when you feel punk is nice. But understanding, that’s the ice cream sundae with sprinkles on top. And if I never hear “again?” when I tell people I’m suffering through a flare, that’d be great. Chronic means chronic, in case you were curious. *

I get that my pain is a source of irritation and frustration for those around me. I’m sorry that people with chronic conditions are an inconvenience. Perhaps, instead of getting irritated and impatient, the people who aren’t afflicted could try empathy? Or even patience and a non-loaded silence?

I get that other people’s problems can be difficult and inconvenient.

How do you think the people who are actually suffering from pain feel?

Be kind. You never know what someone is going through.

*If you’re curious, the dictionary describes chronic as, “persisting for a long time or constantly recurring.” Chronic pain is the Terminator of pain. It’ll be back.

By Em

I like writing. Words help me unpack my thoughts so things can start to make sense. Once I have both myself and the universe figured out, I plan to take up macrame. "Writing is an exploration. You start from nothing, and learn as you go." E. L. Doctorow


  1. You never know what someone is going through is so true, I’m sorry to hear about your pain Em. I used to work with a girl who had Fibromyalgia and after a while I had trouble being sympathetic and got frustrated with not being there when I needed her.

    I tell myself I can deal with psychical pain easily vs mental pain but I don’t really know to your degree.

    Take good care of yourself.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Sorry to hear that you suffer from neuralgia. It’s one of the worst types of chronic pain because your control options are severely limited and mostly ineffective. I am sure you have researched every possible avenue of pain management so I’ll spare you the unsolicited advice. My witnessing of people in chronic pain has shown me how totally altered a person can become and that’s really sad to me. So true- we never know what is going on in someone’s world. Thanks for this!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I’m sorry to hear that neuralgia is causing you so much pain and suffering. If only people would take the time to consider that people with chronic conditions will repeatedly suffer.

    I’m experiencing a form of insomnia at the moment, and it’s been for several months. A friend of mine knows, and I spoke to him yesterday about it. His response was “you had a good night’s sleep a couple of weeks ago. Instead of validating my experience he attempted to convince me that a rare night’s sleep is good enough. Validation is all that I need.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you. I’m sorry about the insomnia. A lack of sleep is hard. And, hearing people tell you why you shouldn’t feel the way you do is so very frustrating.

      Liked by 1 person

  4. “But I carry on. Which means, the people in my circle, the people I encounter, don’t think it’s all that bad.” That. How insane is this? I have people believing that there is nothing wrong with me and that another person is absolutely dying just because “they can’t get out of bed.” … I will not turn this into a negative rant.

    I hope that today it’s not painful for you.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Trying to cope with chronic pain, and enjoy ones existence becomes a juggling act. The anticipation of ones next unbearable episode of pain, weighs heavily on the mind. The Term; “Unless you’ve walked a mile in my shoes”, does apply here. Because, we can be judged by those around us for their own inability to see our pain. And, when the balls come crashing down onto the floor, we alone…are stuck to pick them up.

    Liked by 1 person

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