Pain Management

Breaking my arm wasn't the most painful thing I've ever experienced, but it wasn't a walk in the park, either.  I became grateful for all the pain management lessons that I've heard throughout my life.  I did a lot of controlled breathing:  Deep breath in.  Deep breath out.  Close my eyes, clear my mind.  No problem.

The pain started getting more intense once I arrived at the hospital.  I quickly learned that if I didn't stay positive about my pain, then I was going to lose it, and I wasn't sure I'd get it back.  So I'd breathe in and breathe out and joke with the nurses and smile and chat with Rob about anything besides the current situation.  And that worked well enough for a long time.  The pain was manageable.

But when you appear to be in very little pain, the hospital staff lays low.  I didn't get drugs until I had already been there for almost 3 hours.  And that wasn't a problem until about the 2 1/2 hour mark.  By then my ability to manage my pain was hanging by a thread.  Deep breath in.  Deep breath out.  "I'm not going to cry.  I can't cry."  I knew that if I started crying, I might not stop for a long time.  Rob started interpreting for me:  "Umm, she says she's okay, but she's not.  She's in a lot of pain."  I closed my eyes and silently chanted,  "Don't cry, Tamra.  Don't cry."

I started visualizing a happy place.  Once upon a time someone told me that was a good pain management exercise.  What surprised me was the 2 "places" that came to my mind.  It wasn't something I chose, it was just what came to me.  What felt right.  And while I visualized, I gave Rob a brief verbal tour.

The first was Mt. Washburn in Yellowstone.  I visualized myself standing at the top, taking in the 360 degrees of mountains.  I was standing there, taking it all in.  I was smiling and happy and I could have stayed there forever.  The verbal tour went something like this:  "Find a happy place.  Mmm.  Mt. Washburn.  All the mountains.  Mmm.  That's a nice place."

And the second place was an intimate one.  I was laying in bed on my side, facing Rob who was arm's length away, covers up to our shoulders.  He reached his hand over and softly stroked my hair and smiled at me and we didn't say anything.  I'm pretty sure that's Heaven right there.  Rob said, "That's a very nice place."

The doctor came in and told me that they'd have to set my arm.  He was in the middle of describing how they'd lift my arm up and... when I started laughing.  I was having so much trouble managing my pain that I couldn't imagine being in more pain.  I figured I would pass out if they moved my arm.  I said something almost-incoherent like, "Right.  Right."  He looked at me and then said, "We can put you under for that."  I half-whispered, half-cried, "That would be great."

Deep breath in.  Deep breath out.  Cry a little.  Deep breath in.  Deep breath out.  Make some sort of noise.  "No, Rob."  Deep breath in.  "Don't talk to me."  Deep breath in.  Deep breath out.  And that's when they brought the morphine and set me free of the pain.  It was magic.

Modern medicine is magic.