Life with RSD
(continued)

Earlier this school year, I had to leave to buy shoes so I could at least walk normally, without fear of popping my foot. The boots I was wearing were so stretched out they went straight to the garbage. This disease isn't a joke. It hurts so much. Sometimes just the air from a breeze is too much to handle. I've cried myself to sleep countless times, from the painful day I had, and because my foot had to touch a blanket.
To better explain how much it really hurts, I want to tell you about this collection I have. It's a head-less teddy bear collection. Let me explain: a nurse from Bellin Hospital gave me a Beanie Baby before my first surgery. Now these surgeries that I have aren't normal procedure; I don't get to be put under, and the pain medication is minimal. That said, about twenty minutes into the hour-long surgery, I had torn the head off this poor Beanie Baby. Ever since then, when I have purchased a teddy bear or received one as a gift, they get put into this electric blue basket that I have, just waiting to be used. I don't just use them for surgery, though. In case of an emergency, there is one in my car, one at Sean's house, one at Cara's, and most days there is even one in my backpack. My little sister likes to personify and name her stuffed animals, so we had to name mine. I'm not all that creative, so they're just called Squeeze Bears.

I'm not trying to scare you. You can't catch RSD. But just like me, your life can change forever from it. I'm hoping that by being up here today telling you about it, your life will change enough. I sincerely hope that no one will ever again have to experience it first hand. But I know that won't happen.
Guys, I woke up on January 18th three years ago, and I will never be the same. I suppose you could say that for any experience. But how many experiences have you had that make it so you can't do the things you enjoy? I can't dive. I can't roller blade. I can't water-ski. I can't ride a bike. This disease has limited me so much physically merely because I woke up one morning.
The mental affects aren't much better. People kill themselves because of the pain. The suicide rate for people with this disease is 900% higher than for any other group of people. Any other group of people. I'm talking your average Joe, your manic-depressives, your prisoners of war, and your white ward "lost causes." A lot of people that have Complex Regional Pain Syndrome kill themselves because of the pain. When a doctor diagnoses someone with Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy, it's like saying, "here are the pills, take them all at once and chase them down with a bottle of vodka to get the all pain and suffering over with right away."
Obviously, the mental affects of CRAPS are quite numerous. Most doctors will stick needle after needle into your foot or arm, inject some crazy concoction, then say "see you next week" when they do it all over again. Between visits to the doctor's office, you swallow pills. At one point, I was taking 125 pills each day. They had me on everything from anti-depressants and seizure medication, to painkillers and sleeping pills, and to counteract the sleeping pills, I took pills to keep me awake. Some of the medications that I have taken in attempt to control the pain include aspirin, Ibuprofen, Tylenol #3, Vicodin, Percocet, Morphine, and Methadone, which is used for heroin addicts. To curb depression, I took Elavil, Prozac, Prazosin, Paxil, and Steroids. As the pain intensity worsened, I took Neurontin and Carbamazepine. It was far from an ideal situation.
For the first year or so that I had RSD, I didn't go to school for any number of reasons: my medicine was adversely affecting me (I was doped up), I was too tired, too sick, at the doctor's, or it just plain hurt too much. I began to get increasingly more stupid. I started doing a lot of things that I would get expelled from Notre Dame for doing, like smoking grass, binge drinking and some other things I'd rather not talk about. I made a lot of dumb choices. They're things that I'm not sure why I did or if I will ever be able to forgive myself for doing. I have the physical and mental scars to prove it. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think of my choices and the fact that they will affect me for the rest of my life. I screwed up.