Friday, September 5, 2014 | By: Hey

The Demon Inside Me- Part I

The first shock struck in September 2002.  I ignored it, thinking it was just some weird thing my body was doing.  I’ve had many odd things happen concerning my body, but they were always passing fads and that’s another story.  This shock felt like I was zapped in the face.  It was quick and it didn’t hurt, but I was startled.  The next one happened a week later and same as the first- quick and painless.  A week later, I got another one.  This cycle went on for about a month and then the shocks came more frequently.  During the second month, I was getting them several times a week.  Now, my face was not my face anymore.  I was getting them several times a day and it really freaking hurt!  By January 2003, I finally received a diagnosis after months of waiting on the doctors.  I had trigeminal neuralgia.

The pain was so excruciating.  It was like nothing I had even heard of and apparently it was rare, especially in young people.  I was 23, but I had just celebrated my birthday in the midst of this new trial.  The entire right side of my face felt like it was burning while at the same time I was enduring electric like shocks.  As one subsided another was triggered, so it seemed to never end.  To top it off, there was also the sensation of someone stabbing my brain with an ice pick.  The only relief from the pain was when I fell asleep. 

At this point in my life, I was caring for an infant, my third child.  All I wanted to do was give her kisses on her cheek and belly, but I couldn’t.  I nursed her and then handed her off to my mom.  I could barely brush my teeth or eat, and talking just wasn’t in the cards for me, because all of this triggered more pain.  I managed to nurse her for a year, but I had to forgo taking any medications.  Some might consider this crazy, but I had my reasons.  I survived that first year, which in my opinion was one of the worst in the 12 years of having to endure what others have coined “the suicide disease.”

Crying is a way of consoling one’s soul, and I couldn’t do that either.  All facial movement only triggered more pain.  So I’ve learned to be a statue while my own body is my worst enemy.  There is a saying, “We are our own worst enemies,” and trigeminal neuralgia, or TN for short, takes that saying to a whole new level.  To the outside world, I look fine, but I die inside on most days.  I do my best to get along in life, but I lost many friends and family to this disease.  They didn’t know how to be a part of my life, so they just left, usually believing that it was I that didn’t care.  So I’ve learned to cry inside without movement, without feeling. 

Most people talk about hope and how you must have it to move on.  I have hope, but I think it’s different from the popular version.  I have hope I’ll get along in life.  I have dreams that I pursue and look forward too.  I have hope that my children will have better lives.  But as of now, I don’t have hope that this will go away.  I’ve been told I didn’t pray enough or hard enough.  I’ve cried out to God and do believe my prayers have been heard.  I believe this with all my heart and soul.  But I have a strange suspicion this is the thorn in my side, the one I’m supposed to move on with and be successful in spite of.

What caused this?  No one knows.  I’ve had several MRI’s that returned results with nothing of concern.  For the most part, I’ve lived a healthy lifestyle.  I could have been a bit more active, but due to my condition, I am limited on what I can do and when I can do it.  My only guess is an abnormal amount of stress, which peaked around the time of my first shock.


My life with trigeminal neuralgia has been one hell of a roller-coaster ride, one I did not stand in line to ride.  Because of the way in which my body and my life have been ravaged, I call this disorder a demon.  It’s a demon inside me, and I struggle every day.  I fight to keep it from getting the best of me.  I fight to keep friendships and family.  I fight not looking back on all that I’ve missed.  I fight looking too far forward, aware that a life with disability is not compatible with well laid out plans.  I am just now in the process of embracing that life is now and I’d better enjoy it, even if enjoyment means movie marathon after movie marathon with no popcorn.

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