Endorphins (musing)

Underwater treadmill at
Western PA Sports Medicine
Somerset PA

One of my doctors once told me that I am unusually aware of what’s going on inside my body.  I choose to take that as a compliment.  What I have become especially aware of lately is the endorphin release.  Oh, how I love the feeling: it’s like something inside me pops and releases a warm flow of wellbeing.

This is a relatively new experience for me.  Those of you who know me know that I have, among other conditions, Sjogren’s syndrome with fibromyalgia.  My immune system seeks to destroy all moisture producing glands in my body, my muscles and lungs typically feel like leather; fibromyalgia means that I am in constant pain. 

For many years, I lived my illnesses.  Everything was about being sick.  If I wanted to do something special, like run two sixty second agility courses, I had to plan to do nothing for days before the trial so that I could conserve what little energy I had.  I also had to plan to do nothing for close to a week afterwards, as I would pay for those 120 seconds with approximately that many hours of debilitating pain.

If you know my maiden name, you know that it is synonymous with stubbornness.   My stubbornness is tempered with optimism and it has served me well.  My family doctor is wonderful but it took visits to two rheumatologists, two ophthalmologists, three gynecologists, four neurologists, and every physical therapist in Somerset to build the medical team that works best for me.

God bless the rheumatologist that prescribed aquatic physical therapy and God bless the therapist and staff that recognize and treat the “compounded medical difficulties” that make me me.  I started walking at 0.5 mph for eight minutes and gradually – extremely gradually – worked my way up to a point where I could walk 30 minutes before increasing the speed.

There was a lot of pain in those days, both physical and emotional, and I probably cancelled as many appointments as I kept.  These are good people who are more than health care professionals, they are my friends.  With just the right balance of compassion and admonishments, they kept me coming back until, one day, I felt the endorphins.

I remember it well.  I had a nasty headache but drug myself into the pool anyway.  Somewhere after the warm water stretching and shortly into the walking, I literally felt that particular pain fade away.  My good friend, Lisa, came in to visit me that day and, when I told her about it, she said, “I’m proud of you.  That’s your endorphin release.  Not many fibromyalgia patients can stick it out long enough to get to that point.”

When I teach people about training their dogs, I use positive reinforcement.  It works on dogs and it also works on me.  If I haven’t told you before, thank you Lisa. That moment and those words have fueled the success I have today.

Four years ago, I set an extremely long term goal of being able to walk five miles.  My daughter has promised to celebrate my 50^th year with a trip to the Galapagos islands, with the stipulation that I be able to walk that distance.

Though I have a few years before I hit that age milestone, this summer I met that goal and I am now walking that distance several times a week in addition to my aquatic workouts.  When I shared this victory with my physical therapist/friend/hero/life coach, Steve, he gave me another prescription: live!

That advice has been taken to heart and, now I no longer live my illnesses, I live with them – emphasis on live.  I walk, I play, I laugh, and I write, I love, I live.  All of these release endorphins, that beautiful, magical hormone that relieves pain – physical and emotional.

Over the past six months, I’ve been able to reduce my pain medications by more than half and have eliminated two prescriptions entirely.  I sleep without chemical assistance and handle most anxiety with a laugh.  Sugar has been virtually eliminated from my diet and I am now able to control my hypoglycemia with grains and proteins instead of Mt Dew.  Yes, I still have the aforementioned “compounded medical difficulties” and I am still in perpetual pain but it is finally a pain I can live with. 

Thank you to all who have helped me along the way by making me laugh, taking me out to play, reading my musings and poetry, accepting my copious written communications, and allowing me to love you.  You know who you are.