Ode to Icepacks

O icepacks, my icepacks, how do I love thee?
All the more coldly whenever they’re three
Or four, five, six or seven
Why limit yourself in icepack heaven?

An icepack a day keeps the doctors away
An icepack an hour keeps the demons at bay
An icepack nearby gives me the power to live any way.

Hark, what is that sweet popping sound I hear?
The pop of the icepack-pad just to appear
It makes each day bearable, survivable to be here.

They come in all shapes and sizes, the icepacks I love
I sometimes will use them below and above
With icepacks my life now has meaning again
Without them I’d be lost, a scribe with no pen.

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Eight is Enough

Life’s been whizzing by the past couple of years since my daughter started grade school. I thought I would have more time, but I haven’t. The good news it has become easier to manage my pain on a daily basis. The bad news is it’s still around lingering like an irritating neighbor that just won’t leave you alone. Still, I learn new lessons about life with pelvic pain.

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It’s Not My Back

How many times have people been well-meaning and said to me “I hope your back feels better” as some standard gesture acknowledging my pain but when they really don’t actually want to hear any more about it.

First of all, my pain’s not in my back. It’s in the parts I use to sit, and where I feel the most feminine. It’s where I gave birth. I understand people don’t want to say the V word. I don’t want to say it myself. And technically my pain is in the nerves within the muscle tissue in a few locations, so it’s not just about any one particular location anyway. I fractured my coccyx which is technically part of the back.

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Liberation

It’s finally here, the day I’ve been waiting for now for over six years. Liberation day. As of tomorrow, my almost 6.5 year-old daughter will be in a most-day camp for the rest of the summer, and then as of August, she will be entering first grade. So essentially starting now, my life begins to resemble some sense of normalcy for the first time since before I became pregnant. It comes with continued sacrifices and pain, but it is so refreshing I can’t even begin to express the emotion I’m feeling.

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Sharing Pain

I’d never wish what I’ve been going through the past six and a half years on anyone, but one of the worst things about it was feeling really alone quite often. Without my family and blogging friends, I could never have survived. Yet there was still an element missing – I had no one to talk to who had gone through the same experience. Slowly over time, I’d receive an e-mail message about once a year, thanks to this blog or other things written on the topic or through mutual friends. Then I finally decided to go hunting for a pelvic pain e-mail group and I found one, the ‘happypelvis‘ list.

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Setbacks

It’s been 7 months since I’ve taken Tramadol for my pain. Surviving daily off Motrin, I got into a good pattern of preventative pain medicating with it, each day to keep the pain from flaring. Last week, I had a severe episode of food poisoning that triggered new gut pain and added to too much sitting, suddenly I find myself with the worst flare-up I’ve had in months.

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