The Pain, the Prosthetic, and the Keyboard Warriors.

Let’s face it, life isn’t fair, and for some of us, it’s taken a master’s degree in cruelty. But if life insists on being extra, then we might as well meet it with equal parts grit, humour, and the occasional well-aimed rant. So here it is: an unfiltered, unsanitised look at my life, my body’s “quirks,” and why telling someone in a wheelchair to “just get up and walk” is not only ignorant, it’s also colossally unhelpful.

It all started with a comment on one of my social media posts. Nothing quite like a keyboard warrior dropping wisdom like: "I had my leg amputated 6 months ago and I’m already running. Get up out of your chair and walk!" Inspiring stuff, if you ignore context, empathy, medical nuance, and, well… facts.

Unfortunately, he missed a crucial detail: I didn’t “just” lose a leg, I’ve got CRPS. That’s Complex Regional Pain Syndrome for the uninitiated. Also known as “the suicide disease.” Sounds dramatic? It is. Ranked top of the McGill Pain Index, it beats childbirth, kidney stones, and probably being mauled by a lion while listening to that social media guy explain perseverance.

Let’s put it this way: if you’ve ever seen a film where someone is lit on fire and screams in agony, that’s my leg. All. The. Time.

What does CRPS feel like? It’s a daily 8/10 pain baseline, with flares that jump to “please hit me with a frying pan and knock me out” territory. For me, it’s heat-sensitive. My leg thinks it’s on fire, literally, all of the time! Toss in allodynia (where a feather feels like a chainsaw) and swelling that makes my stump resemble a shiny purple balloon, and you’ve got a party. Stress and sugar make it worse, because of course they do, life is cruel and has a wicked sense of humour.

Think that’s it? Buckle in:

• NEUROMAS: Fancy word for nerve endings that have formed a mosh pit inside my stump. Think searing hot stabbing pain that makes you shout involuntarily. Delightful.
• CHRONIC MIGRAINES: Record high? 28 in one month. Yes, that’s basically living inside a thunderstorm with bonus nausea.
• FIBROMYALGIA: Flu-like aches, exhaustion, and a general sense that your bones are being trolled.
• IDIOPATHIC HYPERTENSION: Yes its dangerous. BP - meds = 220/110... Yes that high!
• REDUNDANT BOWEL: It’s long. It’s lazy. And it refuses to work unless I drug it into submission every 72 hours with industrial-strength laxatives. Which induces nausea, vomiting, and yes...pain! Romantic, I know.
• PTSD: Trauma is equal real, and when it hits, it’s terrifying, like being thrown into a memory while your body forgets how to breathe.
• PMDD: PMT with a bonus kicker!
• PROCTALGIA VAGUS: Literally a pain in the ass!!! 10/10 for this one too!
• COELIAC DISEASE: Wheat doesn't like me!!

I’ve had surgeries. Lots... 22 in fact! I’ve had bits removed, nerves zapped, muscles manipulated, and pain that would flatten most people. But here’s the kicker, I still train. I do endurance events. I push myself, even if it’s while pushing a wheelchair.

Exercise gives me power when pain wants to take it away. It doesn’t cure me, but it helps me cope. It gives me purpose when my body wants to be a prison. Also, the satisfaction of crossing a finish line beats lying in bed listening to your bowel argue with your nervous system.

I don’t wear my conditions like a badge. I don’t believe in support groups that are 90% moaning and 10% helpful memes. And no, I don’t usually talk about my pain unless someone asks. Its not helpful to me or anyone else to recant the weeks symptoms to friends!

But the hardest part? Asking for help when I need it. When the pain’s unbearable and I still don’t want to admit defeat. When I can’t fetch a glass of water but don’t want to interrupt my wife watching TV, or working. That’s when the battle turns inward.

Here’s the truth: I’d do anything to walk again. Not for a medal. Not for applause. But for the little things. Holding my wife’s hand on a walk. Taking our cats to the vet without planning it like a military op. Just existing a little more freely. Maybe the latest surgery will help. Maybe it won’t. But if not, I’ll try again. I’ll take my leg off higher, if the Drs will allow me to. I’ll reset. I’ll fight. Because I haven’t come this far to let CRPS, or any of the other alphabet soup diagnoses win!

To the keyboard warrior!

I’m not lazy. I’m not faking. I’m not “just sitting there.” I’m surviving a war with my own body, and I’m doing it with training, hope, and the occasional expletive.

So to the guy on social media: congrats on your progress, truly. But maybe next time, watch the whole reel before throwing shade. Because when you live with pain like mine, Walking isn't bravery, it would be a miracle!!

And I’m still chasing mine.

PS: If you’re dealing with CRPS, neuromas, or any other chronic condition, know this: you are not weak. You are weathering a storm most people can’t even see. And that, my friend, is a kind of strength few understand!