This Friday marks the 3 month anniversary of my new knee hardware. It seems like yesterday I was limping up mountain tops and cursing my trekking poles. Nowadays, I’m limping up the staircase in my house and cursing my pain medications.
Pain management and the side effects thereof was something I did not relatively plan for. Granted, I knew drugs were going to be an integral part of my recovery but little did I realize the effect they would have on my well-being over the last few months. Let me start out with a disclosure: there’s no way I could have returned to work, or reached the functionality I have now without the aid of pain medications. Without proper pain treatment, I would be curled in a ball in the darkest corner of my house; saturated in pain.
This sort of pain relief doesn’t come without consequence. What I’ve realized is that what you get in pain relief, you sacrifice somewhere else (read: you eventually have to pay the piper). I'll use tramadol as an example since it’s the medication I’m currently on. For the past 10 weeks I’ve been on tramadol and it’s been a wonderful alternative to the spiraling circle of hell they call oxycodone. Tramadol works like an opiate, but what many people don’t realize is how it differs. While partially acting like other opiates such as hydrocodone, morphine and heroin, it also inhibits reuptake of serotonin and norepinephrine.
What does that mean? Not much until you stop taking it and realize what the lack of these neurotransmitters does. Let’s just say one weekend I accidently ran out of tramadol and had to go cold turkey, not by choice. Sleep was scant to non-existent. This sub-state of somnolence opened the flood gates for lucid and vivid dreams, some which were very elaborate and some downright scary. Then came the outpour of emotions and the swell of feelings that seemed to come out of nowhere. One moment I was on cloud-nine, the next I was crying over the Superbowl. As a man, this was a very frightening experience (especially since I hate the Seahawks AND the Patriots). Once I finally got my prescription, the emotional rollercoaster dissipated and my sleep went back to normal (“knee-replacement” normal that is).
I’m now in the process of tapering slowly off my medication. It’s a juggle between managing my pain and limiting my drug intake to as little as possible. I still need to go to work, and continue with physical therapy so there still exists a need for drugs. After reflecting on my harrowing drug withdrawal, I want to rid myself of tramadol as soon as possible. Despite this unfortunate event I can’t help but be thankful for modern medicine though and how it has helped me though this experience.
Pain management and the side effects thereof was something I did not relatively plan for. Granted, I knew drugs were going to be an integral part of my recovery but little did I realize the effect they would have on my well-being over the last few months. Let me start out with a disclosure: there’s no way I could have returned to work, or reached the functionality I have now without the aid of pain medications. Without proper pain treatment, I would be curled in a ball in the darkest corner of my house; saturated in pain.
This sort of pain relief doesn’t come without consequence. What I’ve realized is that what you get in pain relief, you sacrifice somewhere else (read: you eventually have to pay the piper). I'll use tramadol as an example since it’s the medication I’m currently on. For the past 10 weeks I’ve been on tramadol and it’s been a wonderful alternative to the spiraling circle of hell they call oxycodone. Tramadol works like an opiate, but what many people don’t realize is how it differs. While partially acting like other opiates such as hydrocodone, morphine and heroin, it also inhibits reuptake of serotonin and norepinephrine.
What does that mean? Not much until you stop taking it and realize what the lack of these neurotransmitters does. Let’s just say one weekend I accidently ran out of tramadol and had to go cold turkey, not by choice. Sleep was scant to non-existent. This sub-state of somnolence opened the flood gates for lucid and vivid dreams, some which were very elaborate and some downright scary. Then came the outpour of emotions and the swell of feelings that seemed to come out of nowhere. One moment I was on cloud-nine, the next I was crying over the Superbowl. As a man, this was a very frightening experience (especially since I hate the Seahawks AND the Patriots). Once I finally got my prescription, the emotional rollercoaster dissipated and my sleep went back to normal (“knee-replacement” normal that is).
I’m now in the process of tapering slowly off my medication. It’s a juggle between managing my pain and limiting my drug intake to as little as possible. I still need to go to work, and continue with physical therapy so there still exists a need for drugs. After reflecting on my harrowing drug withdrawal, I want to rid myself of tramadol as soon as possible. Despite this unfortunate event I can’t help but be thankful for modern medicine though and how it has helped me though this experience.