Marry the Process, Divorce the Results
We’ve been so programmed, from an early age, to expect A + B to equal C. We also expect it to happen almost as quickly as the words can be said. We don’t allow ourselves to appreciate or celebrate the actions or other realities that could come from the journey because we are so focused on getting to that expected end result. There’s always a greater power at play and results may not look exactly as anticipated; but the journey or process can provide what you really need. This happened for me during one of the most trying times.
When I was doing all the things doctors suggested to me, to get my vulvodynia and pudendal neuralgia pain under control, one short term treatment actually lead to a more manageable long term approach to health and opened the door to employment. One summer, I was flying and driving down to UCLA Medical Center and Beverly Hills for nerve block injections. Doctors would inject a caudal epidural, a really long needle in my tailbone, to numb the area surrounding the pudendal nerve. More often than not, that painful attempt had to be made several times in one sitting due to the abnormal shape or tilt of my bones. Then they would go in vaginally, do a vestibular infiltration of local anesthetic, aka topically numb the vestibule of the vagina, aka the vaginal opening. Truth be told, even just inserting the cold metal speculum hurt like hell, the injecting of the anesthetic on the vaginal opening was unbearable. Using very long needles, they’d inject pudendal nerve blocks deep into my pelvis, near the painful inflamed nerves.
I would leave there, muscles of my lower back completely tense, and hurting near the caudal epidural injection site from multiple failed attempts leading up to a successful injection of the epidural needle. The vaginal opening and my deep rooted pain in my pelvic region would be numb, decreasing my pain. Once the local anesthetic of the vaginal opening wore off, after a few hours, the burning would come back. However, the pudendal block would keep the deep rooted pelvic pain at bay awhile longer, though also temporarily.
I did many rounds of these blocks. I participated in a study of five treatment sessions followed by 6 or 7 more rounds in a private practice. My husband went with me to my initial consultations. My mom also drove me to a few sessions. However, my husband had a full-time job and was the only income earner in our house at that time and sitting for long periods of time in the car induced more pain. So the majority of my trips I would take the 5am flight from Arcata Eureka Airport to Los Angeles Airport, rent a car, and drive to my appointment. I’d endure the physical and emotional pain alone, holding the hand of a medical assistant or nurse. All numbed up i’d then get myself dressed, wipe my tears, compose myself enough to walk out in public, grab lunch, or walk around a mall where I felt safe, drive around and look at houses on Roxbury Drive, or window shop the fancy stores of Beverly Hills’ Rodeo Drive.
The last day of my injections was one of the most emotional for me. All the sessions before that I bore the physical pain of the process, often by myself, knowing i’d at least have temporary relief. The last session was different. The doctor randomly asked what I was doing after my appointment and I told him I was going to take my rental car back to the airport and fly home. I remember the shocked look on his face when he realized that I was alone. Apparently there were risk factors involved that I hadn’t taken into consideration and he had great concern for my driving myself after my sessions, let alone hopping on a flight. He asked if it were possible to stay the night in the area, prior to heading back home, and I said no. I had not packed anything but a purse, my rental car was due back that night, I hated sleeping in hotel rooms alone, and I couldn’t afford to buy a second plane ticket. He requested that I stay at his office all the way up until I absolutely had to leave.
His great concern for me having gone through that session alone, and many sessions prior, suddenly gave my emotional body permission to not have to be strong. I moved out into the waiting room, sat, and held back tears for a really really long time, until I had to leave to account for LA traffic and security lines at the airport.
While I was sitting there I was thinking about the reality that these sessions weren’t a permanent fix for me. They also never helped the pain of my vaginal opening except for the few hours of local anesthetic. I decided to give a low oxalate diet a serious go. I’d half heartedly implemented it before but took and ran with a doctor at Stanford’s suggestion to stop following the diet. In her opinion it wasn’t an effective approach. Something in me knew I needed to commit to it and has now shown to have great impact on keeping my vulvodynia pain at bay.
After all my sitting and emotional pondering I eventually had to leave. I got in my little rental car in the parking garage of a fancy ass medical building on Roxbury Avenue in Beverly Hill and allowed the tears to fall. It’s a miracle I found my way back to rental car returns through watery eyes, but I did. My husband called to check on me as I walk walking into the airport. The flood gate of tears opened up again and I cried all the way through security. I walked into the airport restaurant, that I’d eaten at many times prior, ordered food and a big glass of wine and watched the San Francisco Giants play on their TV (not because I was a fan, it was just on).
The last thing I wanted to do was talk to anyone, at all, but beside me sat a man who unlike me, was a huge Giants fan, and started up a conversation with me. We came to find we lived in the same town. At some point in our conversation some of my job history came about and also the fact that I never felt safe in our town until we put in an alarm system. I came to find out later that he and his brother actually own that alarm company. About a month later, on our home phone, was a message from him regarding a position he had available at his company. I took the job and a lot of greatness came our way because of it. It brought into our lives some of the best of friends, invaluable experience, and business mentorship.
My goal with all those rounds of nerve blocks was to come out pain free, finding my permanent solution in those sessions. That wasn’t my end result. The ending looked much different and so did the blessings that came from that painful journey. Had I not gone through that process, who knows how long it would have been, if ever, that those unexpected results would have made their way into my path.
It’s really hard to stay committed to a process when expected results aren’t appearing to be imminent but even if the results aren’t as expected, the journey isn’t wasted.
To your future blessings from marrying the process, divorcing the results, and appreciating the journey,
