Which is why I was freaked out on Saturday: Never before had I seen Tim collapse from pain.
He was headed to the closet — we’d gotten him a much-needed, last-minute massage — when his legs just folded under him. He then laid there for several minutes sobbing.
It’s incredibly rare for pain to make him cry at all.
He didn’t cry during the various MRSA outbreaks that came with painful boils. Even when his entire body was one big eczema breakout — even when it got so bad that he couldn’t wear clothes — he rarely shed a tear. He did cry at the height of the pancreatitis, but even that was partially from being not just hospitalized, but also stuck there without Adderall.
So seeing him crying in a heap on the floor… Well, it drove home just how bad things were.
This is all owing to a snafu with his Cymbalta.
The prescription was pending at the mail-order pharmacy. I thought this meant it was just waiting until insurance would refill it. Apparently, the actual issue is that they’d reached out to the prescribing nurse, and she never got back to them.
I hung up with the pharmacy and emailed the nurse. In the meantime, we figured we’d just go get one more month in person. But life happened or we saw something shiny or… whatever. Point being, we didn’t get around to the refill until Saturday.
By that point, the mail-order pharmacy had sorted out the issue and had, therefore, filled the prescription. Meaning we couldn’t fill it in person and now have to wait until the prescription gets here.
Meanwhile, Tim’s last dose had been on Thursday. By Friday night, he was getting more sore than usual, but we didn’t put two and two together.
I helped massage his neck and shoulders off and on throughout the evening. But it didn’t make a dent, nor did the showers he took to loosen up the muscles.
The next morning, he could barely move his neck. Between that and the shoulder pain — not to mention his usual lower back pain — he could barely walk. Then there was the aforementioned fight with verticality.
He calmed down and managed to get up and get clothes on. After a 90-minute massage, he had a bit more movement in his neck but… it wasn’t still pretty bad.
The rest of the day saw a bunch more hot showers, then me rubbing a medicated gel and a balm onto the afflicted areas. And a bunch of ibuprofen. Well, a “bunch” for him. He hates to take more than one at a time. Saturday night, he took two full doses in six hours without prompting.
As of Sunday, he had slightly better movement and was back on the normal pain spectrum. To people who haven’t seen/experienced chronic pain, I may need to translate. “Better movement” means he can move his neck about 30 degrees to the left and about 20 degrees to the right. And “normal pain” means a range between discomfort and stabbing, rather than excruciating to mild-melting.
Much in the same way that healthy people don’t know tired, most of us don’t understand pain. I experienced some pretty horrific stuff with Guillain-Barre, but Tim lives with this constantly. Without narcotics, which I had the benefit/detriment of.
Unfortunately, Tim’s Cymbalta probably won’t arrive for at least five days. In the meantime, we just have to hope that his flares stay to a relative minimum.
Have you guys ever seen/experienced that kind of pain?