Keeping things hot when everything hurts

Earlier this month I was reading in my American Pain Foundation newsletter that September is Pain Awareness Month. On the front page there was a story on "intimacy" (i.e. sex) and chronic pain, and I smiled a little as I thought of our own efforts with this issue. And with a half an hour remaining of Pain Awareness Month, here are some of my thoughts.

I remember the day after the second time A. and I had sex (indeed the second time I'd ever had sex) many years back. It had been particularly raw, physical sex, and when I awoke the next day, I hurt from my split ends to my toenails. It was that horribly stiff fibromyalgia hurt where laying in bed just makes it worse, despite the fact that I was so exhausted I could barely move. As I dragged myself downstairs to the living room, crying quietly so A. wouldn't hear me while he worked in the kitchen, I sat in horror at the thought that I might not be able to have sex often if it was going to do this to me. How would A. feel about that? Would he be mad because I couldn't have sex as often as he might want to have it?

As it turned out, he was actually quite understanding about the whole thing. For the most part we're fairly compatible as a couple, but we do have times like all couples where he's in the mood and I'm not, or I'm in the mood and he's not. And we cut each other slack accordingly.

But there are also pain/illness-specific issues for me that require some adjustment of how we might define sex. Intercourse is a lot of work and any sort of exercise can make me very ill. Plus, because of chronic pelvic pain (as well as other problems), it is painful. The result is that we rarely have it. But I would argue that doesn't mean we don't have sex. As those of us with sexual fetishes know, intercourse is often an afterthought when we think of sex. Our exploration of bondage or spanking or feet or diapers is redefining sex, which is a liberating thing for those of us who can't fuck quite so readily.

But at the end of the day, fucking is still how many of us satisfy our sexual appetites, and I find mutual masturbation to be a nice substitute. While it may lack the full, penetrative quality of intercourse, there is still a lot about it that is very intimate. Indeed, I think in many ways it's a lot more vulnerable. Requires a lot more communication. And at the end of the day, is far more equitable as it takes each of our pleasure into account.

Though it doesn't always mean an automatic orgasm. One of the downsides of medication and fatigue is that I can't always come. But I'm finding toys that can help with that. The Miracle Massager has proven to be a really great one. I cannot think of a better toy for someone like me who fatigues quickly. It's curved perfectly for clitoral stimulation. It's not too heavy. And if I use the Attachment, I can stick it in, sit back and let it do all the work. Not too mention, it's also handy for massaging my neck and shoulders (what the Hitachi Magic Wand was originally intended for before women started using it on their rosebuds!). Another low-energy toy (which will be featured in an upcoming post) is the Silver Bullet. Shaped like a skinny silver egg, I can position it on my clitoris and then easily control the level of vibrations with the hand-held controller, again allowing for an easy orgasm with minimal effort.

Then there are days when A. is very randy and, while mentally I wouldn't mind a little hanky panky, I'm simply too weak. At those times I usually tell him to grope away, just don't expect much reaction from me. While it's not as fun for him, what I love about those times is how sexy he makes me feel at a time when I probably feel the most worthless as a lover. How he hungrily fondles the enormous tits that I felt so insecure about as a kid (I was in a C cup by the time I was nine). Caresses the belly I've spent so much of my life hating. Strokes the pussy that purrs under his hand. Gropes the ass that can never get enough attention.

Yes, speaking of my ass, the irony that I'm a chronic pain patient who likes getting spanked is not lost on me (being on the blood-thinner Coumadin complicates it further). True there are some days when a nice spanking is the perfect thing to get the endorphines going. And in many ways, taking a hard spanking is sort of my ultimate "fuck you" to pain. A way I control pain instead of it controlling me.

But then there are the times when the pain has been so intense, getting spanked is about as appealing as a giant meal after Thanksgiving dinner. Those times are fewer and farther between since starting long-acting morphine last January. Though that has brought with it its own issues, the most prominent as it relates to spanking is opioid-induced hyperalgesia, in which the narcotic actually makes me more sensitive to painful stimuli. My pain threshold in terms of getting spanked varies wildly. There are some days when I'm an unquenchable pain slut whose prolonged clotting time and propensity to bruise severely limit my explorations into subspace. And then there are days when the hairbrush is coming down just a tad harder than a tap and I'm practically jumping through the roof.

Let me just take this opportunity, however, to note that addiction is not one of the issues that usually accompanies the usage of narcotics, despite what the media suggests. There is a difference between dependence on a medication and addiction. If you give a bottle of Vicodin to an addict, he or she will probably go through it in a few days like a bag of M&Ms. The pain patient, on the other hand, will take it as directed by his or her doctor. Yes, addiction is a possible side-effect, yet the chances of that happening to someone taking narcotics for pain are around 1%. Unlike constipation which happens to almost everybody who takes opiates (but hey, I have always wanted to explore those enema fantasies...).

Lastly, I think one of the big keys to a healthy sex life is imagination, and A. and I spend a lot of time sharing our fantasies with each other. It's certainly helpful when our relationship is over the phone most of the time. And while we don't end up acting out half of what we talk about, I've come to find that it's the imagining and sharing that keeps everything so...hot.