Is this a normal Lumbar ESI????

I had a ESI today in my L5 S1, this is what happened. I layed on the bed and he then put the numbing medication in my back, which by the way burned! and then immediately afterward he started putting a needle in my spine, i felt a pop in my back, that radiated down my legs, then another one, at this time i started tearing up and asked him why its doing that, and then he did it again and then one more time and my leg shot up and he said just putting air in to break through is all, and then one more time and then he stated he has it, and if i was ok, and then started to put in the steroid medication which was burning in front of my legs and in my back, and then i had to turn to my right side when done lay there for a minute. They repeatedly asked me if i was ok for ever 2 minutes of the 20 minutes i had to wait till i could go home. The only numb part of my body was on my right butt cheek on the side of it and that was it, i can feel everything in my back and its feeling stiff and cannot bend over all the way. Im also experiencing a headache. This is my first spinal injection and not sure if this is normal or not. I am getting these shots for Spinal stenosis and a arthritis along with a small hemangioma on my l4. I am also 29… Please let me know if this Popping feeling i got when he inserted the needle was a feeling i should of felt. They told me he was putting air in to break through. but i dont believe it, i read a lot and seen nothing of that.

A Teenager’s Journey Dealing with Chronic Pain

To Those Without Chronic Pain:

If you were to pass me by on the street, or stand in line behind me at the store, or even have a brief conversation with me, chances are, you won’t notice. You won’t notice the struggles that slow me down every second of every day.

Hi, I’m a senior in high school and chronic pain has been a big part of my life for the past two years now. I haven’t written for more than 10 minutes at a time in over a year because every time I do, my palm swells up and a burning sensation takes over. Sure, I’ve attempted to switch writing hands- but it’s only been to discover the same burning sensation welcoming me. Is that it? No, that’s just the beginning. Every day, I fight through some sort of pain. It varies from my knees to my knuckles to my elbows and the pain finds no limits.

It’s been a difficult journey, but I’ve learned to fight through the pain every single day. It isn’t just the pain that slows me down, however. It’s the ignorant comments from people that drag me down. No, the pain is not in my head. No, I do not enjoy wearing different braces every day. No, I’m not exaggerating. And no, I’m not lucky because I’m given some leeway with school work (believe me, it isn’t much).

It isn’t exactly possible for me to describe to you the pain that people who have chronic pain have to deal with. It isn’t exactly possible for me to describe the emotional toll that this pain takes on us. It isn’t possible for you to feel the pain, and I wouldn’t even wish for you to. However, I do wish that you educate yourself more about chronic pain, and work to raise awareness.

To People Who Suffer From Chronic Pain:

Hey, I’m with you. I completely understand what you’re going through. Maybe you barely suffer from chronic pain. Maybe you suffer at a greater extent than I ever have. Either way, I believe in you. And I believe that you have the strength to keep pushing through, and to show up stronger than you have ever before. Chronic pain gets difficult to deal with and I truly understand the way it may have turned your life around and tired you out. But it’s never too late to get back up on your feet. Good luck to you guys and keep fighting like the warriors you all are!

Through my Eyes

Every morning as I open my eyes to greet the day I smile gently, as I have since early childhood. For a fleeting moment I am happy, full of the appreciative anticipation and excitement of another day. Then I move, an arm, a leg, perhaps just my fingers or neck; and the reality of the pain throughout my body hits me like a lightning bolt followed by a boulder.

Reality hits. Once again I realize that I will not be bounding out of bed to start my day, follow my dreams, work hard at the career that I used to be so passionate about. I will not get to drive to the office anticipating the projects of the day. I will not get to greet my coworkers and discuss the day ahead over coffee and chatter and jokes and laughter. I will not get to stretch my mind, solve the puzzles and challenges of the day, make mistakes or produce that which wows. I will not be driving home from a rewarding (or sometimes frustrating) day of work excited to throw off my work clothes in exchange for my jogging gear so I can run 3 miles and end up at the park on the swing set, before heading home to make dinner and collapse on the couch after a challenging and rewarding day of life! I will not feel the sense of completeness and belonging in the world at the end of the day. I will not be able to tell my friend or family member about the exciting project I am working on when they call to say hi. I will not get the hard earned paycheck at the end of the week that allows me not only to pay for my basic needs, but to plan for the future, plan for a vacation to an exotic place I would like to visit, plan for a good retirement one day. I will not be making plans for the weekend with my friends to go see the concert, or go out to the club or restaurant, because not only can I not afford to go on my overly extended tiny budget, but I can not keep up physically. I will no longer be making plans. I cannot dream of vacations or a comfortable retirement because I only have $5. dollars left at the end of every month after paying for the basics of life and the mounting medical bills. I cannot dream of the pretty dress in the window because I cannot afford to go anywhere anymore that allows me to wear that pretty dress. I no longer have the privilege of what most people take for granted. I no longer have the privilege of a “normal” life.

I wake up and gently smile at the new day. Then I move my arm, my leg, perhaps only my fingers or neck; and I once again (as happens every morning) I am reminded that I am Sisyphus, and the day demands that I once again I have to garner every ounce of physical and emotional strength to force myself out of bed, for the boulder awaits, and I have to push it up the mountain again if I am to get through another day. I have to push the boulder up the mountain with the full knowledge that tomorrow morning it will be waiting bedside, to be pushed up the mountain again. Every day is the same. I have become Sisyphus, life is the boulder. A boulder that is so heavy and painful that if I didn’t have pets waiting bedside with sweet, gentle eyes waiting to be fed by me, I would choose to ignore many days, I would simply roll over and cancel the day. But I cannot. My life is like an ever – repeating day … think the movie Ground Hog Day … an endless loop of maintenance of the basics of existence through the fog and frustration of relentless never-ending physical PAIN.

I have become Sisyphus. I am only 53 years old and I have been Sisyphus for 23 years now. I am so tired of being Sisyphus …

To those of you out there who think those of us who have life-long chronic diseases (that rob of our lives) somehow “choose” to live the life we are forced into by the limitations of our bodies (and everything that entails) … you need to re-examine the issue. Stop and ask yourself … would you give up everything you worked for and loved to live a tiny life on poverty level funds? I am sure your answer is no. By accusing me of choosing this life (with chronic pain) you are in essence saying that you think I am crazy and have somehow embraced my limited life style by choice? NO … I haven’t! I too had a life that I LOVED! I grieve for that life every day! I didn’t choose this disease … it chose me … it raped me … it took over my life in the most insidious fashion. I try to control it, I try to live with it, I put a smile on my face most days and try like hell to appear as normal as possible. I want to be seen as normal, I want nothing more than normal. I try every therapy, I research ad nauseum. I have tried every coping mechanism, medicine, alternative therapy, healing diet, etc., for 23 years. I exercise every day, I do everything I am supposed to do to control the disease. I work very hard to tame the beast. Buy please do not confuse my coping with with “choice”. I DID NOT CHOOSE THIS! I am just like you. The difference is that my body failed me at age 30. I was 30, so happy, moving forward full of big hopes, big dreams, big plans! The life I live today has nothing to do with any of those hopes, dreams, or plans. Just be grateful for your health, and grateful that you have not been handed “the boulder”. You have your freedom in your health … and I would give anything to have that back!

No Treatment? Only Aimless Therapy.

There’s only one thing worse than understanding, and that is not understanding. Innocence is bliss, as the proverbial say, but that is not always true. Treatment is the curer of disease, of sickness, of impairment; to treat, to deal with in a certain way, you go to the GP, you get treatment, the hospital, treatment, the clinic, treatment, but what if you can’t be treated?

‘Therapy is treatment’, the professionals preach, but not clinically. When you have appendicitis you go see a general surgeon, he grips a 10 blade and a cauteriser, and removes the appendix. Treated. When you get diagnosed with a treatable cancer, you see an oncologist, he prescribes a course of chemotherapy, you take it. Treated. Clinical. Clean cut. You either are, or you’re not (though, whether your doctor actually spells it out to you like that is a different story). Therapy is dissimilar. They say therapy is synonymous with treatment, but it isn’t applied in that fashion. Therapy is given when there is no clinical treatment, when the reach of medicine stops. After you’ve had a knee replacement you got to rehabilitation: therapy. Though this therapy has clear intentions and outlines, this therapy is aided by the strong guide of medicine. Therapy restores. Medicine diagnoses and medicine treats. Therapy needs to be worked at.

But what is there to be worked at when there is no explanation?

There’s only one thing scarier than knowing you’re in the hands of medicine, and that is knowing that medicine cannot reach where you are. You are as far in as you will ever be out. Scan after scan, exam after exam, nothing. When medicine has nothing, where can you go? The doctors send you to a therapist (of whatever sort) and they give it a stab, but they’re not medicine. They don’t have the reach, the expertise; all they have is therapy.

You sit in that waiting room seat for the however-many times this month, and you question why you’re here. You know you will be greeted by a baffled and flailing therapist, who is attempting to ‘treat the symptoms’, you know you will go home in just as much pain as you came. They can give you as many exercises and activities as they want, but it never helps, it all never helps. As you walk out, you, again, question why you’re here, and it dawns on you, that you’re here because you have no where else to go. You’re stuck in a downwards spiral of medical rejection and therapeutic endeavours.

Medicine bounces you all over the hospital, but you always end up in the same bleak waiting room, despondently walking in with the same therapist, greeted by the same slosh pipes and rainbow coloured putty. You have no where else, you rock up and sit in the same chair every time, and you hope and pray that they will finally find the reason, the reason for all of your suffering, and pain, and hardship. And every time, after you leave that sombre place, you’re disappointed, you wished that you would finally understand, and that you could finally get back to family and friends, to school, to life. You wish that this isn’t going to ruin your life, that it isn’t going to ruin your career, that it isn’t going to kill you – mentally and physically.

There’s only thing more disheartening than not having hope, and that is getting your hope thrown back in your face.

Dystonia and Parkinson’s

Hi my name is Diane I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s in 2012 iv just about had it with doctors that look right through me and don’t listen when you are trying to explain your problems I started getting dystonia in beginning December 2012 about 6 months after being diagnosed with Parkinson’s I spoke to my neurologist who also doesn’t pay much attention just said you wouldn’t jet better well I know that my arm kept twisting around till it felt like it was coming out of the socket this carried on and my toes roll under and my hand would twist and freeze in June 2014 I had a very server dystonia in my arm that continued for 2 hours I feel so strange well my young son phoned for an ambulance when they arrive they had know idea what to do with me as I seem to have pain ever were they decided to take me to AE I stood up to walk to the door when I had this unbearable pain go through my body that my legs went from under me when arriving to hospital the pain was so bad I just wanted to die I know that sounds terrible but even a nurse who had worked in AE for some years said she had never seen someone in so much pain they only part of my body on the bed was the top of my head and the tips of my toes my back was so arch up they did know how to stop the pain as they had given me everything they could I didn’t work so kings college was informed who told them to give me high dose of diesapan which with all the other drugs I’d had knock me out but since being discharged from hospital I’m still in pain every day since kings changed my parkinson’s meds which has helped but had bad attack of dystonia again to day and save me being stuck in hospital got my Gp to give me higher dose of morphine and up the diesapan which has helped but still got pain does anyone know how I get a proper diagnosis for dystonia sorry for going on but i had know one to talk to, thank you. Diane k

You are not alone