## Huge Pain Relief
Last february, I got a brand new spinal cord stimulator that offers me a *huge* amount of pain relief. I could suddenly work all day. I could go to my kid’s graduation. I could feel the outsides of my feet!
But in my heart of hearts, what I really wanted was to stop seeing my pain doc.
before I go on, I want to acknowledge two things: 1) It took years to find a pain doc who trusts me as a reporter of my own experience, and it was mostly luck that got me there; and 2) even though I found a good provider, I hated having to haul myself to the clinic every 28 days to pee in a cup and be reminded that the synthetic opioid I took had the potential to be extremely addictive.
to be clear, I believe opioids should be dispensed with care and caution. At the same time, it is well-documented that people like me who use the drugs under clinical supervision are less at risk for disordered use then those who purchase the drugs illegally.And after close to a decade of use, every 28 days was feeling excessive.1
But I digress. The point is that the minute I realized my stimulator helped,I began weaning myself off the meds and never looked back,thrilled with my results. Prior to the stimulator, even on the meds, I was living daily life between a pain level of 5-6. After the stimulator, most days were more like a 3-4; I could use ibuprofen and ice to control the pain, and I felt incredibly free. Drug-free, clinic-free, doctor-free.
## Back to the Clinic
And then six weeks ago, I got a call from Abbey, the sales rep of the simulator company, asking were I’d been. Apparently, I am supposed to be seen in the clinic periodically to adjust my stimulator’s program. She left me a message, and I didn’t call her back. I still wasn’t ready to go back to the doctor’s office (medical trauma is real).
Then she called again, and I reluctantly made an appointment to go see her. It’s not her fault. Abbey is a lovely person who really took the time to get to no me. I just didn’t want to go to the office for what I assumed would be a perfunctory 20-minute visit, where I’d tell her how great everything was, she’d say, “That’s nice,” and we’d go our separate ways.
Keep reading