From JFK to FDR

First, let me say that I'm not referring to the respective legacies left by both Democratic presidents. Numerous books have already been written about that, and I hardly could say anything new. No, I'm talking about the chronic pain that plagued both men, and how Neupogen has made me feel like both commanders-in-chief, first the later one, and now the earlier New Deal-maker.

The nurses at Northwestern warned me about possible pain that could arise due to injections of Neupogen. I have to give myself two shots every morning, and they are quite simple (see picture and relevant post below). This is to increase production of red blood cells, and consequently stem cells to be transplanted later. The good thing about Neupogen is that it negates the need for stem cell collection from my bone marrow, which, as anyone who's seen an after-school special or made-for-TV movie about cancer and bone marrow operations knows, is an incredibly painful procedure. After the past two days or so, I'm not so sure I wouldn't go the traditional route--at least it's over relatively quickly, as opposed to the Neupogen regiment, which lasts about a week.

Until late Tuesday night, I had no pain whatsoever. I even emailed my nurse and told her that the injections were going well, and that the pain I was supposed to feel was nonexistent. Not five minutes after I sent the email, though, my lower back started to throb. It was like she had stabbed a voodoo doll immediately after speaking to me. At first, the pain was subtle, though constant. Soon, though, it grew in intensity to almost comical proportions. I wasn't laughing, though.

You know how, when you stub your toe, the pain is excruciating but you know it'll be brief? Or a brain freeze, when you're nearly apoplectic from blinding pain, but then it subsides and you gratefully are back to normal? Well, imagine both of those types of pain, but without the brevity and quick resolution. This morning, my lower back felt exactly like this. I felt like I imagine JFK felt due to his chronic back problems, and only kept thinking of an image that I have seen many times, but most recently on that MSNBC documentary on the Kennedys: his face as he lay on a board while he was being carried out of an ambulance. He wanted to grimace, I'm sure, but the cameras forced him to keep a blank expression.

Although I had been warned, I assumed most of these caveats were part of simple medical protocol. This morning, though, I was in the throes of such throbbing, relentless pain that I felt I understood, for the first time, exactly how Kennedy felt on that stretcher. Goddamn, I was in pain. Eventually, the nurse came through on a prescription for Norco, aka Vicodin, and I received some relief from that.

Then, after a long siesta that has come to be a daily ritual, I awoke to find that the pain had left my lower back. Energized and overconfident, I stood up only to realize that the pain had simply migrated to my legs, specifically my thighs. I still can hardly stand without scowling. Admittedly, this is not much of a change from my normal expression, but now its cause is pathological and not simply due to a cantankerous temperament.

So now, I feel like how I imagine FDR felt late in his presidency. Everyone knows he'd had polio, and subsequently had to use a wheelchair, but I don't think people know how much pain he was actually in. Sure, his legs were mostly numb, but he still endured, silently, sporadic spasms of pain. Likewise, I don't put up much of a fuss, but I assure you that my legs--thighs and knees, mostly--hurt like hell.

Maybe now I can call my pain "presidential."

R