I didn’t get it at first. What everyone meant when they used the phrase “ it will take time.” By everyone I mean the pain management doctor. My movement disorder specialist/ neurologist. The physical therapist.

Not having endured many assaults on my heretofore mostly healthy body, I assumed that most conditions could in be fixed with pills, or surgery or some sort of device (I’m a bit hazy on what I had in mind by the latter).

And now I go “ha ha hee hee ho ho.” I’m laughing at my foolish naïveté. Because “take some time” means that there is no magic bullet for what ails me. There isn’t even a name for it yet (possibly resolved with this morning’s MRI, the second for this ball of pain in my left butt cheek). I’ve heard arthritis, pinched nerve, muscle spasm and disintegrated disc tossed around.

Here’s how I found myself considering the term “chronic pain” and how it might apply to me.

OUCHIE OUCHIE OUCHIE

I was experiencing a bit of achiness – nothing debilitating – in my lower back, which happens once or twice a year. I mainly treat it with ice packs and heating pads, and it goes away. This time, the discomfort (a euphemism I’ve heard doctors employ when they really mean excruciating) persisted, so I decided to go to the “I’m serious about this” top flight massage studio near me. I asked for deep tissue, and that’s what I got, alternating intense rubbing with what I’d describe as healing touch. All in all, I felt great.

Until I got off the table and landed, left foot first (the side of my body that gives me trouble) on the floor. I practically screamed, as I told the masseuse that it felt exactly the way my hip felt when I’d broken it a few years ago. I hobbled to a cozy chair in the lobby, where I sat for a while, mulling over what this horror might be before calling a Lyft to transport me home.

The pain resided smack in the middle of my left butt cheek. I gave myself a five-minute anatomy lesson, learning that there are indeed bones in the tush. Who knew? Proctologists maybe? At least I had some idea what to do. Ice, heat, ice, heat till bedtime. First thing the next day I called my PCP, who ordered an x-ray, which revealed nothing. The pain specialist I visited ordered an MRI, the results of which were inconconclusive, and didn’t seem to match my description of my experience. I inquired about a cortizone shot, to which he replied he’d give me one if I wanted him to, but there was only a 50% chance of efficacy, so I declined. I have my second MRI this morning and will await my results which I hope will lead to some treatment recommendations and hence (dare I utter it?) a fix.

In case you’re wondering, the worst pain occurs when I sit down, and when I rise from a seated position. Ouchie ouchie ouchie. I’m told by the pain guy and my physical therapist that I need to keep moving, but if it starts to hurt, stop! Not sure what to do with that directive, since it almost always hurts when I rise and begin to walk. I do take my usual, albeit abbreviated walks around the neighborhood; sometimes my ass hurts a lot throughout the day, and other times not at all.

And now I’m advised by my team (PCP, Pain doc, neurologist) to “give it time, and exercise a lot.” I didn’t quite realize that this meant “there is little we can do for you. You’re pretty much on your own.”

Despite being informed of this injury’s likely trajectory, and my doing everything in my power to get back to normal – chiefly exercise and stretching – I fear that this thing, whatever it is, will be a part of my physical makeup for the rest of my days. It’ll likely come and go. I only hope the “gos” will overtake the “comes” most if not all of the time.

What’s odd is that I experience “My Two Pains” (name of theoretical 1960’s sitcom?) very specfically. It’s as if both types – the PD and the Tush – are battling for hegemony over my body. Some days, it’s mostly the PD type, and other times (and these days it’s most of the time) it’s the back/nerve/disc/muscle/whatever.

From speaking with friends and acquaintances, I’m learning that there are lots of pain sufferers out there. The medics ask us the degrees (on a scale of one to ten), the frequency, the causes, and whatever other metrics they need in order to determine our level of (my least favorite term) discomfort, before they inform us there’s little they can do.

Okay, that’s a bit harsh. All I know for sure is that my left side, starting at the center of my butt and working its way down to my ankle, has hurt like hell practically every single day for about six weeks, and that the multiple approaches I employ in order to mitigate the pain are not working, or at least not as effectively as I’d like them to.

But, ever the optimist, I’m hoping for a return to a mostly pain-free life ASAP. Let’s hear it for no more ouchie, ouchie, ouchie.