I wasn’t going to give up without a fight. I threw myself into every solution I could find.
Every morning and night, I swallowed pills – acetaminophen, ibuprofen, you name it.
The painkillers did take the edge off for a few hours, but they upset my stomach and gave me heartburn.
I learned that taking too many could hurt my body (those pills can cause stomach irritation and even heart problems if overused. So pills weren’t a safe long-term answer for me.
Next I tried those sticky patches and creams from the drugstore. My bathroom cabinet was filled with boxes of cheap pain patches that promised “deep relief.”
Honestly, most of them barely made a difference.
I’d slap a patch on my knee and feel a slight tingle or warmth, but an hour later the pain was back in full force.
Many of those patches use weak ingredients or tiny amounts of menthol.
They might help a mild ache, but for bone-deep arthritis pain, they were no match.
One patch even gave me a rash – probably from whatever chemicals were in the adhesive.
It was so frustrating to waste money and hope on these quick fixes.
I also tried other therapies. I bought a stiff knee brace (it was bulky and uncomfortable, and my knee still ached).
I did physical therapy exercises (they helped a bit, but I was still hurting daily).
I even tried an herbal supplement that a friend recommended, but swallowing capsules didn’t give me any noticeable relief either.
Each new thing I tried would lift my hopes, only to dash them when I was back to hobbling by evening.
As months went by, I felt trapped. My life started to revolve around my knee pain.
I scheduled activities around whether I’d be able to stand or walk that day.
My family was supportive, but I hated feeling like a burden.
In quiet moments, I secretly feared that I might need knee surgery one day or that I’d never get my active life back.
I was losing hope, and that was the worst pain of all.