Life with RSD

This is the second hardest thing I have ever done in my entire life; the first hardest being directly related to number two.
I want to tell you about the disease Complex Regional Pain Syndrome. In my opinion, Complex Regional Pain Syndrome is the worst disease to ever be named. But then again, I'm biased. In January of 1999, I was diagnosed with it. And like most people, I had never heard those four words together. I quickly created a nickname for my sickness: CRAPS. I highly doubt this, but you may have heard of Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy (RSD), which is another name for CRAPS.
In the past three years, I have sporadically done research on it, and the more I have learned, the less I like it. Most importantly, I have learned that being able to create the phrase "really stupid disease" from the letters "r," "s," and "d" was more than just a strange coincidence. I honestly believe it was one-hundred percent intentional.
Doctors say that RSD has three stages, but I disagree with them. However, I do believe that RSD and numerous other diseases progress and have stages, but not in the crystal clear, black and white, cut and dry manner that most doctors approach the disease with, therefore I'll just give you the essentials. CRAPS affects the limbs and is oftentimes triggered by an injury, from the stubbing of a toe, to major surgery. The disease affects the sympathetic nervous system - the nerves that are unconsciously controlled. Somewhere in my body, a nerve is out of sync with my brain, thus causing pain and other unnatural, undesired, and uncalled for effects. And because the nervous system is so HUGE, it makes it extremely difficult to find this short circuit. This also explains why there is no cure for RSD, and probably never will be.
A messed up nerve doesn't sound that bad, until you experience it. It's hard to believe that one tiny nerve, even a few tiny nerves, can cause so much grief for a person. I'm not sure if any one of you can completely grasp the horrible, awful, excruciating pain I suffer from every day. Imagine submerging your foot in a vat of boiling oil, never being able to turn down the heat, never being able to take your foot out. That, my friends, is a manageable day.
Some days, it feels like my foot is on fire. Or railroad ties are being shot through it. Sometimes lightning shoots up my calf. I also experience shooting pain, extreme temperature changes, complete numbness, and tremendous swelling. Not to neglect the fact that I can't bend my toes. Unfortunately, I am not limited to one type of pain per day; some days I experience them all, other days just one type.
Anyone who has ever experienced a stinger knows how uncomfortable they are. Multiply that pain level by one thousand, and you're near the parking lot of the ballpark I'm playing in. My foot goes from hot to cold in the blink of an eye. Trust me, it's not fun. Complete numbness probably sounds appealing compared to what I was just describing. In fact, it's just as bad. If my foot goes dead, I don't even know it's there. You try walking without your foot. Not the best game at the party. My foot becomes so swollen that I can't get shoes off or on. The seams tore on a pair of athletic socks last week. That's not supposed to happen; socks stretch.