It occurs to me, as I write this at age 37, that my life mostly feels like a fantasy dream. I do what I want, when I want…and things seem to work out for me. If I were told it’d all end tomorrow, I might borrow Lou Gehrig’s famous speech and upload it to the blog.
There’s a new-ish cliché that says, “Everyone is battling something you know nothing about.”
I’m no exception. I envision taking rose-colored screens off your devices for this article. I probably won’t receive any more texts saying, “I want your life,” because life ain’t always as it seems to be.
Life is Suffering
Once you understand that nobody is exempt from pain, you’ll never spend another minute of your life jealous of someone else. Life is suffering. As soon as you think you’ve got the world by the “short-n-curlies,” the world will punch you in the face.
For almost nine years, I’ve suffered near chronic, sometimes ferocious headaches. To rid myself of them, I’ve tried prayer, yoga, meditation, primary care, ENTs, neurologists, physical therapy, allergy shots, allergy drops, changes in diet, vitamins, holistic medicine, treatment for TMJ, acupuncture, prolotherapy, multiple X-rays, MRIs & CT scans, massages, sinus surgery, quit drinking alcohol, anti-epilepsy drugs, opiods, pain patches, anti-depressants, beta blockers, muscle relaxers, CBD oil, changed environments, psychologists, spinal injections, nerve block injections, psyilocybin, and finally headache surgery a few weeks ago.
What is Wrong with me?
I’ve always been a hyper-driven guy. Had I overworked myself in pursuit of personal goals? Could the headaches be self-inflicted stress of which I was unaware? Was I experiencing a physical manifestation of something deeply embedded psychologically? An environmental factor (allergy-related)?
Traveling the globe without a care in the world rendered those theories false. I got terrible headaches in the most serene locales.
I thought headaches might kill me (if I didn’t kill myself first). Doctors were clueless—their guesses no better than my WebMD searches. No medication helped.
My brain felt squeezed, making it hard to concentrate on work. For relief I’d take 10-minute breaks, lay face down with my hands balled into fists, then grind my knuckles into my forehead.
I once fainted on my bathroom floor, woke up disoriented and unable to move for a few seconds (it felt like minutes). Trying to make light of my ordeal, I told my neurologist and a young intern that if I’d hit my head on the sink, at least I might’ve invented a new flux capacitor. My joke fell flat as a gymnast.
Swallowing muscle relaxers with NyQuil was my bedtime ritual. Sleeping was as difficult as smiling during the day. I’d get scary lightning bolt shocks of pain in my forehead.
My sleep-like state resembled anesthesia more than restorative sleep. It was my escape from feeling like someone’s thumb was pressed on a sensitive pecan-sized area above my eyebrow.
Going without dairy was no help. I ditched gluten, alcohol and other potential causes to no avail. My routine intermittent fasting started while trying to mitigate headaches.
I’d wake up not wanting to face another day. No project beyond breakfast seemed tenable. Even a sunny day at the beach wasn’t enough incentive to start the coffee pot.
Horror Stories
I made little traction searching for people in a similar pain predicament. Once down Internet rabbit holes, I’d get lost in reams of horror stories, some of which ended in permanent neurological deficits or death.
One man I read about had a minor procedure to treat lightning bolts of pain that were shooting through his face. Doctors placed a tiny drop of liquid cement on the suspected nerve to keep a vein from pressing on it. A week later, he developed worse headaches than before and died. Nearly every test was run, but no diagnosis was ever identified.
Another guy passed away from a brain-eating amoeba. Others died from ALS or aneurysms discovered too late. I worried my doctors missed a brain tumor, or that I had irreversible nerve damage because I’d suffered so long. Increasingly frustrated, I just wanted a goddamn diagnosis.
Beyond Pain
As my headaches became tougher to endure, I started to think the possibility of a long life remote. Those thoughts were probably irrational—my medical intelligence rivals my knowledge of Twelfth Century Latin Literature—that is to say, nearly none.
One night feeling overwhelmed, I pondered whether “offing” oneself because of physical pain is more excusable than ending deep psychological and emotional pain. Having experienced both, I can tell you they’re similar in feelings of helplessness and inescapability. Though enduring the former can portend growth and transcendence; the latter I’m not sure.
My next thought was, “Oh shit, do I now have to answer in the affirmative when the neurologist asks if I’ve had suicidal thoughts?” I wasn’t depressed. I loved my life: my friends, job, colleagues and bosses. In fact, I’d joke to my girlfriend that life would be too good if I didn’t regularly have this feeling of my head in a vise.
Love and support isn’t what one needs when faced with chronic pain. Understanding is needed. You want your apology accepted when you can’t talk on the phone, attend social functions, or have an uncharacteristically “short fuse.”
Diagnosis and Procedure
Almost a year ago, I was referred to the top neurologist in Houston. It was the third neuro I’d seen in as many years. Finally, after nearly a decade of searching, a doctor used words to describe my condition: trigeminal neuralgia.
My trigeminal nerves were caught-up in, or being compressed by, muscles in my forehead, causing atypical facial pain. It’s a condition afflicting 4 in 100,000 people. Finally, a diagnosis. Hallelujah!
The doctors were convinced a newly developed surgical procedure could significantly reduce my pain. It’s a controversial operation insurance wouldn’t cover. I’m $20,000 lighter than I was when the Philadelphia Eagles won the Super Bowl. I figured it was a risk worth taking—I’d exhausted all other options.
Success rate of surgery: 80%.
Post-Op
I’ve been recovering from nerve decompression surgery for over a month. Seven incisions in my head, including two under my eyebrows. Too early to tell if I’ll get permanent relief from headaches—much of my forehead is still numb.
I’m finally able to exercise following weeks of lethargy. I ride the recumbent bike and walk on the treadmill (like a boss).
Amazing how much you miss movement when you’re laid up. My energy levels and overall mood are up 10x from where they were a month ago.
The Iron Horse
Unable to do much during recovery has enabled me time to think and reflect on life. I remembered that both my grandfathers died at age 74, which seems so young now that I’m halfway there.
I learned that Lou Gehrig and I share a birthday, June 19. I also hit left-handed like he did. When Gehrig was diagnosed with ALS, a neurological disease that destroys nerve cells, he gave what is referred to as “The Gettysburg Address of Baseball.” In it, he said, “Today, I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth.” We have that in common too.
I’ll be fully recovered by my 38th birthday. Then I’ll approach life like it’s the second half, with more toughness, durability and renewed vigor—those traits which earned Lou Gehrig the nickname, “The Iron Horse,” before his life was tragically cut short at age 37.
I’m so sorry for your pain. Praying for you to recover and completely heal, old friend. I love your attitude! BTW, I totally would have laughed at your “Back to the Future” joke, I use many lines from that movie.
Thank you. And hahaha, one of the all-time greats! Glad someone caught it. 🙂
I’m happy for you that at least you can put a name on what ails you. I’m praying for your long term pain relief.
Thank you sir.
Brad! That must have been terrible. So glad to hear you are on the up and up and not suffering any longer. Respect the candidness of the blog. 👍🏻
Thank you, Shannon! You posted some great travel pics on Facebook/Instagram last week.
Physical pain will make you forget about any other feelings you may have, whether good or bad. You can distract yourself from stress or mental/emotional anguish with tasks and experiences, but physical pain can wreck the most ideal situations as you’ve revealed in the blog.
Perfectly said, Skileser.
Hey I get it I really do! I am so glad to hear you have ,with great hope and prayer, found your freedom from pain. Nothing else matters when you are in pain that is hidden from others sight! When you have a cut or are in a brace or cast or anything tangible people get it, but when it’s inside where no one but you can feel it and know it’s there, it’s not easy to have the ones you love and care about .. and the ones that you really really want to get it they just can’t and it’s not their fault!
Anyway my special nephew I am happy for all the happiness you have and most important the pain free life I hope you are about to experience !
Love you
Nanan
Thank you, Nanan…all so true. Sometimes I wish the half pecan-sized lump above my eyebrow was more visible. It’d make the pain easier to explain and easier understood. The other part I don’t like is the subjective pain scale (1-10), which I’m sure technology will render obsolete soon. Hopefully, we’ll feel 100% by then. 🙂
Dang, being your best friend, you would think I’d have known the extent of your pain. But I did not. Thank you for having the courage to share this. As I tell my hitters, “on the other side of pain, is growth.” It’s no wonder you are wise beyond your years and have grown exponentially over the last decade. May the pain in the head be gone, but never be free from the good kind of pain that stretches you and forces you to grow. Love ya bud.