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Neuropathy Is A Real Bitch!
Hi again, all my family, friends, fiends, foes and all of you funky folks!
Hi Folks! Your old pal Dean here, flailing at my keyboard like a carp out of water. So, let me get right into this one, you have heard me talk about this before, as I have neuropathy in my feet. The title says it all, doesn’t it, really? If you’re reading this, you or someone you love is probably dealing with that special kind of hell known as peripheral neuropathy. That burning, tingling, stabbing, freezing, or downright numb sensation in your feet, hands, or elsewhere. It’s a relentless, 24/7 soundtrack of pain that drowns out the music of anyone’s life, and makes it miserable.
And if your doctor is like mine was for the longest time, their solution begins and ends with the pharmacy. “Here, try this gabapentin. Not working? Let’s up the dose. Still no? How about some Lyrica? Oh, and here’s a pamphlet on antidepressants, they can sometimes help with nerve pain.”
I get it. I’m not a doctor, and I don’t even play one on t.v. Those medications have their place and help many people, (me too, sort of…). But for me, just throwing pills at the problem felt like putting an expensive band-aid on a gushing wound. It wasn’t addressing the why. It was just masking the symptoms, often with a lovely side of brain fog, dizziness, and feeling like a zombie from the pit of Hades. I’d look in the mirror and think, “This isn’t living. This is just existing in a medicated haze.”
