Sunday, August 3, 2025

Living with Ankylosing Spondylitis: My Journey with Invisible Pain

 

Today, I want to talk about something deeply personal: ankylosing spondylitis (AS). It’s a type of arthritis that primarily affects the spine. In my case, the vertebrae in my spine are fusing together—that is what the “ankylosing” means. The result? Pain. Stiffness. And a very different way of moving through life.

AS doesn’t look the same for everyone. Some people experience little to no pain. For me, it comes in waves. I was diagnosed around 2008, after what we initially thought was just a pulled muscle. But the pain got worse—so bad at times that I would literally pass out from it.

I haven't had a severe flare since 2015, when a five-hour surgery forced me to lay flat on my back. That position triggered a brutal recurrence. Since then, I can't sleep on my back without days of lumbar spine pain.

My History with Treatment

Back in the day, opioid prescriptions were handed out like candy. I was told to take 4–5 opioid pills a day, along with very high doses of Gabapentin. I didn’t follow that plan exactly. I took the opioids at lower doses, three times a day at most, and they didn’t make me feel any kind of way—I was careful to use them only when I truly needed them. The Gabapentin, on the other hand, was prescribed at very high levels, but I found that much lower doses were enough to calm the neuropathies. Even so, it started affecting my memory, and some of those issues have lingered. I’m grateful I listened to my body and adjusted things, especially now that we know how dangerous and addictive some of those medications can be.

Now, things are more complicated. I take Xarelto for blood clot prevention, which means I can’t take NSAIDs. Tylenol is technically "safe," but for me, it might as well be a sugar pill—it does nothing.

Recent Flare and Modifications

For the past two weeks, I’ve been in a pretty severe flare. I don’t know what triggered it, but the pain hit hard. I had to adapt my surroundings. My bed is on a platform, which makes it easier to get in and out of—but it still requires sitting up and bending, which has been tough.

Blessedly, I found a lift chair recliner on Facebook Marketplace for just $25. My youngest son picked it up, and a friend helped fix the minor issue it had. It’s been a game changer. I can now recline and stand without straining my back.

I visited the doctor, got a steroid injection, and it helped quite a bit. I'm going for lower spine x-rays soon to assess how far the disease has progressed.

Other Symptoms: Vertigo and Neuropathy

On top of the spinal issues, I’ve been dealing with vertigo. When it hits, the room doesn’t spin—I just get deeply nauseous. Sometimes it feels like I’m standing sideways when I’m upright. I’ve avoided taking meds for it because they make me too sleepy. Instead, I use peppermint essential oil, which helps. I have little vials placed around my house—by my chair, bed, desk, kitchen, and bathroom.

Then there are the neuropathies. The extra bone growth from AS can trap or pinch nerves. Sometimes, it feels like my face is on fire. Other times it’s a burning hand, stabbing arm, or a foot that feels electrocuted. It’s unpredictable and exhausting.

I also have degenerative disc disease. The last time I was checked, I had two vertebrae with no disc left—just bone grinding on bone.

Living with Invisible Illness

Here’s the most important thing I want you to understand: This is an invisible illness. People look at me and maybe think I have bad posture. But it’s not just posture—it’s fused bones. I often stand or move in ways that minimize pain, even if they don’t look “normal.”

It’s not that I don’t want to do things. It’s that I can’t. Every day is a choice:

  • Can I stand in the kitchen long enough to cook?
  • Should I batch meals for the week or just try to get through today?
  • Can I go to the store—or will I have to pay for delivery (which isn’t easy where I live)?

Even something like carrying groceries requires careful planning. Because of my aortic aneurysms and AS, I can’t lift over 10 pounds. I either use reusable bags with just a few items or get 10 plastic bags for 10 items.

Dog food? That’s another project. I can’t lift a 50-lb bag. So, I use a scoop and a wagon to move it bit by bit into bins and feeders. Friends and family help when they can—and I’m so grateful for them.

On Gratitude and Grace

Despite everything, I’m thankful. I’m thankful that I’m not in pain every single day. I’m thankful that I have support when I need it. And I’m thankful for the good days when the pain is manageable.

Generally, I live at a pain level of about 3-4 on a scale of 10. For the past couple of weeks, it’s been closer to 9. Thankfully, things are easing up after the injection—but it has affected my ability to work, especially my gig work and hustles. I’ve had to pause things like mystery shopping and inspection jobs that require driving or walking. Sitting has been unbearable and watching a computer screen

Please, Don’t Judge What You Can’t See

If you take nothing else from this, take this: Just because someone looks fine doesn’t mean they are. Your friend who used to be the life of the party? They still want to go. They just can’t.

Be kind. Be patient. Offer help when you can. And take care of your body. Stretch. Eat well. Go for walks. Hug your loved ones.

Because one day, you may find yourself facing invisible pain too.


Want to Learn More?

Here are some resources I recommend:

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