The next few years looking back appear to me as wilderness years. Many of the things that were important to me were slipping away eaten away by the pain and the limitations it imposed.
I attended the pain clinic twice more, once for Lidocaine and once for Botox, neither was effective. In the end the hospital visits were taking more out of me than the good they were achieving so it was back to my G.P. for the next step forward.
Nobody had up to this point from the pain beginning 6 years previously had actually given me a diagnosis. It was a nurse at the pain clinic who had said ” Paul, it sounds like fibromyalgia“. It was the first time I had ever heard it said.
On my next visit to the G.P. I mentioned this, he told me that there are no tests for fibromyalgia, only symptoms that can’t be explained by any other test. He said it was his opinion that I did indeed have the condition.
I can forget today the intense relief that washed over me to hear that I wasn’t insane, that my problem had a name. There is great power in a name. Once something has a name it begins to take form. Once it has form it is easier to fight.
So the fight began.
To be Continued