What Would My Life Be Like Without Chronic Pain?

I’ve been thinking recently about what my life would be like if I did not have chronic pain.

I generally try not to dwell on such things. Despite having clinical depression, when I’m /not/ in the midst of a depressive episode, I’m a generally optimistic person who tries to see the best in every situation and every person. It’s not really my nature to ruminate on the “ifs” about my body I can’t control. And really, although I have chronic pain, I haven’t had to have surgery, and I can generally function okay, so I consider myself very fortunate compared to plenty of other people with arthritis.

But this pandemic and prolonged self-isolation with no regular contact with anyone except my husband has brought out more of my melancholy side, and the fact that I couldn’t get a massage for three months has only emphasized how my pain influences my life. I can now get massages, and just returned from my second one since Virginia tentatively started allowing them again, and part of me just can’t help but wonder. Massages can help me get to a 4/5 pain level out of 10 rather than a 7/8, but what if I could actually get to 0?

If I didn’t have osteoarthritis in my neck that has led to chronic neck and shoulder pain over the past 10+ years, what would my life be like? What would I be like? Would I still be the same person?

For starters, I’d have a lot more money. I wouldn’t have racked up the credit card debt and personal loans that I did during law school and post-law school, as I wouldn’t have had to see the massage therapists, the chiropractor, the acupuncturist, and the doctors simply to cope. I wouldn’t have tried anxiety pills that never worked for my pain. I wouldn’t have bought countless numbers of massage tools, pillows, and posture correctors, hoping that something would work. I wouldn’t have had to have so many massages a year just to manage. I wouldn’t have gone through so many rounds of steroid injections to prove to insurance that additional treatments would work. I wouldn’t have gone through radiofrequency ablation on my neck twice, burning off the arthritic nerves there. I wouldn’t have gone through two rounds of prolotherapy, hoping maybe it would strengthen my tendons and ligaments enough to lower my pain. I wouldn’t have gone through physical therapy for my neck, going 2-3 times a week for over a month to learn strengthening exercise for it.

Think about how much time that all took too. What if I had that time back? What books could I have read? What friends could I have spent more time with? What blog posts could I have written?

Although my clinical depression and ADHD were both diagnosed in high school, when I still had only a stiff neck and not a chronically painful one, would either condition be nearly as bad as it is without my pain? Would I have the attention span of more than a cat? Would I be on the pills I’m on or would I use the mental health tools I do to keep my mental state under control? 

Would I be interested in having children if I didn’t have pain? If pregnancy wouldn’t exacerbate all my existing pain issues considerably? If I didn’t have to think about how carrying a small child around with me would affect my pain? More than once while playing with a small child I’ve had to ask them to be careful with my neck or my shoulders while they roughhouse or hug me or whatever.

I probably can’t give a kid a piggy back ride anymore. I don’t know. I haven’t tried it since I was diagnosed with arthritis.

Of course I have many other reasons for not wanting children, but the increased pain is such a huge issue (regardless of the methodology of acquiring said child) that I have no idea how I’d feel without that. I would have liked to be able to make that decision on my own.

I would be able to sit on a couch for longer than 10 minutes without worrying about it increasing my pain and giving me a nasty headache. I wouldn’t have to sit in floor chairs while watching TV. I could go likely out in the sun without sunglasses without getting a headache almost immediately. I could craft without worrying about how much I’m looking down at my work; looking down always makes my pain so much worse.  

I could try as many different types of exercises as I like without worrying about my neck. Perhaps I wouldn’t have to eat carbs to get rid of my cervical headaches. Perhaps I wouldn’t struggle with my body image or my diet or my overall health the way I do.

Or perhaps I would. I don’t know. I’ll never know. This is as good as it gets, kids; there’s no cure for osteoarthritis and I’m certainly not getting any younger. Unless someone manages to develop a miracle treatment in the future, this chronic pain is a permanent thing.

I’m not holding my breath.

You know, I used to love riding roller coasters when I was younger. I miss that. Roller coasters hurt me now. It’s such a stupid little thing that really doesn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things. But I used to love the way they made me feel, the whoosh and the speed and the screaming at the top of your lungs as you hurtled into the sky above. And I can’t feel that way anymore. If I do dare to ride one, I take pain meds and anti-nausea meds before hand and anticipate feeling shitty afterward. It’s hardly ever worth it for the trouble. I miss the freedom I used to feel.

I could go to bed at night without using a heating pad on my neck. I could wake up in the morning without thinking I need to do my stretches and exercises and use my massage machine or my massage ball. I could maybe even survive a week without ibuprofen or acetaminophen.

At 32, I could look forward to the rest of my life without knowing with certainty that I would be in pain for all of it.

It seems silly to complain. I am so fortunate in so many ways. My problems are little compared to so many people in this world. I’m really fine. Don’t worry about me; I’ll be fine. Go worry about people experiencing systemic racism, or the protesters getting abused in the streets, or about the essential workers who’ve been working for ages to try to save lives, or about any of the countless other things wrong in this world that we need to try to fix.

But sometimes I just can’t help but wonder.