Trigeminal Neuralgia, or as I call it: Demon-Spawn

Yes, dear bloggies...I am once again, up and in pain. So I thought I'd take a moment to describe trigeminal neuralgia.....HELL ON EARTH.

I am pretty good with pain. I've had kidney stones, gall stones, kidney stent, root canals, back labor, natural child birth....I understand pain. But nothing, nothing is like trigeminal neuralgia. It's like having a downed live wire shooting electricity into your face. It's excrutiating.

If I'm lucky, it never starts. I take medication that (in theory) is supposed to help prevent the attacks. If that doesn't work, I take Vicoden. If THAT doesn't work, it's off to the hospital I go, for a shot of Demerol.

Now, Demerol's not a bad drug...it makes me goofy and kills the pain pretty well. There are, however, some down sides to it.

The first problem with it is that it makes me sick to my stomach...even with Phenergan.

The second problem is how it's administered: I hate injections. Now, that might sound weird, coming from someone with as many tattoos and piercings as I have. But tattoos and piercings are FUN. I get them when I'm in a good mood. Demerol I get after days, sometimes weeks, of pain and no sleep. I'm not in a good mood when I get the shot. I'm desperate.

The third problem is going to the ER. I hate doing it. It's demeaning. The fact that I've been there so many times, the nurses all know me by name is humiliating. I have to go, in terrible pain and unable to speak, show them my pain-management contract, sit in the lobby while "real" emergencies are tended to, then explain to some new doctor what to do (even though it's specified, very clearly, in my contract what the problem is and what to give me). Most of the time, the schmuck doctors end up calling my regular doctor to ask them what to do....even though, once again, my regular doctor WROTE IT ALL DOWN FOR THEM in the damned contract. This means even more time I have to sit there in pain.

And then, just for fun (problem number four), every now and again I'll get a doctor who thinks I'm there drug-seeking. I know it's coming when they ask me, "How many Vicoden do you have left?" Plenty, they just ain't working. Then the nurse comes in with the cup. They never come out and tell me they are running a drug test....they just hand me the cup and tell me to piss in it. To say that this is humiliating and demeaning is putting it far too mildly. I can't tell you how many times I've cried, in frustration and embarassment, over this. The first few times, I understood. But I've now taken probably a dozen of these piss tests...all negative. How many times do I have to go tinkle for them to see that I'm not some junkie on a bender? I have a legitimate, chronic-pain issue. A diagnosed disorder for which I'm seeing a specialist. I have a pain-management contract that specifies under which circumstances I must go to the ER. So, while I am sitting there, in the ass-less gown in horrifying pain, why are they treating me like a criminal?

The fifth problem is that the Demerol wears off, and I'm left with the Vicoden. I estimate that 8 times out of 10, that one shot of Demerol is enough. It enables me to sleep, so I can cope with the pain. Sometimes, that's all I really need. It's those other 2 times that are the clincher. It means that after the Demerol wears off...the pain comes back. And I'm off to another trip to the ER.

I wish the pain would go away already...but that isn't very realistic. There's no cure for TN. To make matters worse, I am about to get some serious dental work done that will, in all certainty, make me have a bad attack of the pain. I've been avoiding it like the plague, afraid of the pain, but now the unresolved dental issues are making the TN worse, so it's off to have all my teeth yanked out I go.

So be warned, ZEN PRETZEL TRICK fans: I use the Internet as an outlet when I'm in pain. Let's just hope there are plenty of quizzes, bad baby names and nutbags for me to obsess over.