To the Doctor Who Helped Me Learn to Live With Chronic Pain

 Dear Doctor,

I still remember the first day we met. I was looking forward to the meeting, finally getting to see a “Pain Medicine Doctor”. I went into that meeting so optimistic: I hoped that you would finally have the answers I had been waiting for. A way to stop living in constant pain. A way to get back to living the life pain took away from me.

And to your credit, you did have some answers. No clear ‘magic bullet’, but you did suggest other tests I should have done, medications we could try, and other specialists who might be able to help. Most importantly, you assured me that you would help me, that you believed in my pain and you would work with me to make it better.

But I was also very disappointed. I had hoped that you would be able to take away the pain, but you made it clear that wasn’t possible. Over two years later, I still remember only one thing you told me. You had asked what I was doing before I got sick, and I explained how I had loved hiking with friends and farming. You told me “If two years from now you want to be hiking, you need to learn to hike with pain. I won’t be able to take away the pain, but I can help make it more manageable and I can teach you how to hike anyway.”

I love hiking

Today, two years later, I am infinitely grateful for what you told me. First of all, it showed that you believed me. After being told so frequently that the pain was “all in my head”, this was a huge relief. It also showed that you understood the effect the pain was having on my life. Unlike some other doctors, you didn’t tell me that I should just “start running again” or pretend the pain wasn’t there. You didn’t blame me, and you didn’t make me feel like I was too weak to handle the pain.

Instead, you gave me hope. It took me a while to see it, because it wasn’t the hope that I was expecting. I had assumed a pain medicine doctor would get rid of pain, which you didn’t. But you did give me hope that I would be able to get my life back. You were honest, and didn’t pretend it would be easy, but you made it sound possible. At a time when I couldn’t see any future for myself, you showed me that one was still possible.

Not only did you give me hope, but you told me that you would help me get there. You told me that you would help me learn to manage the pain. You made living with pain a skill that could be learned, instead of an inherent trait that I thought I was too weak to handle. You made me believe that my life could get better. And unlike the many doctors before you who had been eager to pass me off, you assured me that you would help me along the way.

I’m writing this letter two years ago after an incredible weekend of hiking. During a 20 mile hike, I remembered what you had told me. And I realized that I am living a life I wouldn’t have believed is possible: working a job I love, in graduate school, and I get to go hiking. There are days when it is unbelievably challenging and when I am overwhelmed by the pain. But even with the pain, there are days when I am able to go hiking and do the things I love. And for that, I am infinitely grateful.

From my hike last weekend

Thank you for everything you did to help me. Most of all, thank you for believing in me when I couldn’t. Thank you for reminding me that hope can take many forms, and for helping me build a life I love.

A Letter To Myself When I Have To Cancel Plans Because of Chronic Illness

Dear Annie,

 I know you debated for half an hour over how to phrase the text, but essentially the message was “I’m sorry, I won’t be able to come today because I’m sick.” It’s not a new message, because this isn’t a new occurrence. Yes, it felt different because it was a new friend. It felt scarier — you’ve never told them about your chronic illness, so they have no context to understand why you had to cancel the plans that seemed fine yesterday. 

 It’s hard because it feels like your fault. After all, you’re the one who told your friend that you couldn’t do it. But it’s not your fault. Being sick is not your fault, and the symptoms that come with it are not your fault. This is not something you signed up for, or something you ever would have chosen. 

 I know that it feels like you’re letting people down. I’m sure your friends are sad, because like you, they were probably looking forward to today. And it never feels good to be the one to take away that opportunity. But it isn’t you who decided not to go, it’s your illness. There was no way you could physically go, and you did the responsible thing by letting your friends know that as soon as you could. 

Writing this letter

It’s okay to feel sad because of what you know you’ll miss out on. I know it’s so easy to imagine your friends having fun without you while you’re homesick. And I know you were really hoping today would be different. But you will have another chance. 

 I know it feels like you canceled because you aren’t strong enough to push through it and go anyway. But canceling on them is not a weakness. You push yourself all the time to do things that you need to do even when it feels like too much. It’s never easy to say no, but you need to let your body rest. It definitely doesn’t feel like it right now, but you are doing what you need to do. And hopefully, good friends will support you as you prioritize your health. 

 I know it’s hard, but try to let this go. Take today to rest, and do what you need to do in order to take care of yourself. Hopefully, you will feel better soon and be able to spend more time with your friends.