Nerve Endings

Have you ever wanted to take a vacation away from yourself?

About three years ago, I began surfing on eBay, trying to find a new neck. The one I have and I were at odds. 

Years of unsuccessful searches in web stores; various doctors, dentists, chiropractors, 3 different physical therapists, 3 different massage therapists and pain medications paved the way to the Holy Grail of Those Paid to Hear People Complain about Pain – the pain management doctor.

“Amy, you have overactive nerves”. He explained that normally, upon an injury, nerves fire pain signals, but then quit doing so as the wound heals. “This is called acute pain. You have chronic pain. Your nerves don’t quit. They keep firing pain signals without any reason, at least that we can see”.  The anesthesiologist-turned-pain-doctor then took out his needles and gave me two cortisone injections. “This may help settle the inflammation and will be all you need, but mainly, I’m using this to make sure we find the right nerve that’s wrecking havoc.  Then we take out the big guns”. I did get the big gun – a denervation. A needle is inserted near the naughty nerve, and sends a radio frequency signal that burns, or stuns, the end of the nerve. “This should give you about 6-24 months of relief. The nerve will grow back; nerve endings are that smart”. Since that time, I’ve had an additional 15 cortisone injections and 3 denervations. He’s right; they do grow back.

The sad thing about all of this drama is that I don’t have a good story to go with it. “Did you get in an accident?” is the question every new medical professional asks me. The only trauma that came to mind was the horrible flu I got six years ago when I vomited my lungs out.  Truthfully, I think this is the sort of thing that happens to people that have atrocious posture (as evidenced in the 1988 Hot Springs High School yearbook), a desk duff, a perfectionist neurosis, and those that also have overactive nerves of the mind.

I would love to take a vacation from my pain in the neck, but honestly, the nerve endings of my psyche are often more bothersome.  I’ve had the same symptoms for years: I overanalyze every living thing and every dead thing. I try to find meaning in inanimate objects; I perform autopsies on them to discover the cause of death, and try to decode the DNA of polyester stuffing to find the essence of life. I squeeze a water-soaked rag until every last possible drop of spiritual insight-however skewed- has dripped.

One would think this would make for a quite joyful existence; being able to find a philosophical pea under every lifeless rock. Actually, it makes me crazy. My intense personality not only finds the meaning of life in culverts, it grieves every good thing that passes. Normal changes of life that others let roll of their backs will take me 20 years to mourn. I have a neurosis of over-thinking.  I have no precipitating event except being born – no good story to tell. The mental nerves just keep firing signals with no known reason. This, also, makes me want to take a vacation from myself.

If there were a denervation procedure available for the mind (one without the crippling side effects of drugs and alcohol) I would try it. But, until one is tested and available in the heartland state of South Dakota, I’m afraid this blog will contain the shrapnel of the neurotic explosions of my psyche – my vocabulary vomit. My family is tired of bearing the burden; I need another outlet for expressing my quirky conclusions.  If your nerve endings aren’t as sensitive as mine, you might be able to tolerate reading it.

But then, every so often, you’ll probably need to take a vacation away from it.