NOTE: This reply is far too long (800 or so words). If long replies are anathema to the "normal" protocols of this forum, please feel free to move on to the next reply.
I have been a severe chronic pain patient for nearly a quarter of my relatively young life. Do I miss leading a normal life? The question is so tantalizing that it encouraged my first reply to a thread in a forum I have long followed but have just registered with moments ago.
Normal is such a subjective word. I have "met" so many normal people in these forums over the years just as I have read the stories of exceedingly above normal people in the very same forums. Sadly, I have come across too many who appear to be under the care of a unqualified and/or narcissistic team of medical practitioners that seem to care little of "quality of life" issues and provide treatments that are just as debilitating as the conditions they are supposed to treat. And sadder yet, albeit rarely, I come accross forum members who are clearly depressed, despite a doctor's misdiagnosis or their own misdiagnosis.
I admit, it can be too easy to look at a person who doesn't suffer my maladies and appears "normal" based on my momentary misunderstanding of the definition, and feel a bit envious. It doesn't accomplish anything; nearly every human engages in this behavior far more often than they admit, and I would be dishonest to my new friends if I were to say there isn't a feeling as if I am missing out when I see a dad tossing a baseball to his teenage son. That does not take away any of the skills that I may pass on to my children; and of course there is the distinct possibility that the dad tossing the ball to his teenage son wishes he had the normal relationship that I share with my kids.
Despite a laundry list of major malfunctions among some of the 7-trillion trillion atoms that make up the individual I refer to as me, I feel normal. Like most, I yearn for the days I could climb trees and my only bills were the money I saved up for frozen treats purchased from the ice cream man on a hot summer day. I think it's normal to remember those halcyon days of summer, just as long as I understand that, thanks to Einstein, I am pretty sure I will never be in "that place" again.
When I could play basketball fairly well at a towering five-foot nine, I think it was normal to wish I was just over seven feet tall. I am sure I would have been in the NBA and debating which house I would spend the off-season in.
I have been known to wander back in time and regret some of the decisions I made, either out of ignorance or stupidity; wondering if my life would have been more "normal" had I not made those decisions.
I have a minor in psychology and have spent many years in the medical field. Half the time as a caretaker; the other half as a patient. Sometimes I wonder if we create an impossible definition for normal that goes along the lines of, Normal: what I am not and everybody who is not like me, is. When an elderly man or woman in the golden years of their lives occasionally pines for the days when they cradled their now grown sons and daughters in their loving arms rocking them gently to sleep, isn't that normal? They will never have the opportunity to do it again, will they? Oh, they may try, but I imagine that would surely be looked upon as embarrassing to say the least!
We are all normal in the fact that we are each human, we each have our respective burdens to carry, we all have plenty to offer each other, we all make mistakes, we all feel good when we can put a smile on someone's face, and we all remember times we could do what it is we cannot do now.
We are all human, and last I checked, there are books and materials on how to be rich, how to win friends and influence people, how to split atoms, and how to whip up a tasty chicken Marsala, and even textbooks, such as the DSM-IV which discusses true abnormal symptoms. But even during my scholastic career, I never came across any definitive book on how to be normal. Maybe it is because to be normal is to be human.
I apologize for the inordinate length of my initial response and promise that future replies will be much more succinct. I have spent years following this forum and so many of you have helped me in ways that you should be proud of.
I have been a severe chronic pain patient for nearly a quarter of my relatively young life. Do I miss leading a normal life? The question is so tantalizing that it encouraged my first reply to a thread in a forum I have long followed but have just registered with moments ago.
Normal is such a subjective word. I have "met" so many normal people in these forums over the years just as I have read the stories of exceedingly above normal people in the very same forums. Sadly, I have come across too many who appear to be under the care of a unqualified and/or narcissistic team of medical practitioners that seem to care little of "quality of life" issues and provide treatments that are just as debilitating as the conditions they are supposed to treat. And sadder yet, albeit rarely, I come accross forum members who are clearly depressed, despite a doctor's misdiagnosis or their own misdiagnosis.
I admit, it can be too easy to look at a person who doesn't suffer my maladies and appears "normal" based on my momentary misunderstanding of the definition, and feel a bit envious. It doesn't accomplish anything; nearly every human engages in this behavior far more often than they admit, and I would be dishonest to my new friends if I were to say there isn't a feeling as if I am missing out when I see a dad tossing a baseball to his teenage son. That does not take away any of the skills that I may pass on to my children; and of course there is the distinct possibility that the dad tossing the ball to his teenage son wishes he had the normal relationship that I share with my kids.
Despite a laundry list of major malfunctions among some of the 7-trillion trillion atoms that make up the individual I refer to as me, I feel normal. Like most, I yearn for the days I could climb trees and my only bills were the money I saved up for frozen treats purchased from the ice cream man on a hot summer day. I think it's normal to remember those halcyon days of summer, just as long as I understand that, thanks to Einstein, I am pretty sure I will never be in "that place" again.
When I could play basketball fairly well at a towering five-foot nine, I think it was normal to wish I was just over seven feet tall. I am sure I would have been in the NBA and debating which house I would spend the off-season in.
I have been known to wander back in time and regret some of the decisions I made, either out of ignorance or stupidity; wondering if my life would have been more "normal" had I not made those decisions.
I have a minor in psychology and have spent many years in the medical field. Half the time as a caretaker; the other half as a patient. Sometimes I wonder if we create an impossible definition for normal that goes along the lines of, Normal: what I am not and everybody who is not like me, is. When an elderly man or woman in the golden years of their lives occasionally pines for the days when they cradled their now grown sons and daughters in their loving arms rocking them gently to sleep, isn't that normal? They will never have the opportunity to do it again, will they? Oh, they may try, but I imagine that would surely be looked upon as embarrassing to say the least!
We are all normal in the fact that we are each human, we each have our respective burdens to carry, we all have plenty to offer each other, we all make mistakes, we all feel good when we can put a smile on someone's face, and we all remember times we could do what it is we cannot do now.
We are all human, and last I checked, there are books and materials on how to be rich, how to win friends and influence people, how to split atoms, and how to whip up a tasty chicken Marsala, and even textbooks, such as the DSM-IV which discusses true abnormal symptoms. But even during my scholastic career, I never came across any definitive book on how to be normal. Maybe it is because to be normal is to be human.
I apologize for the inordinate length of my initial response and promise that future replies will be much more succinct. I have spent years following this forum and so many of you have helped me in ways that you should be proud of.
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