You know it’s a bad day pain-wise when you find yourself doing a Google search on “Does removing legs make severe axonal neuropathic pain go away?”
Google reminded me that doing so will not necessarily stop the pain. I could end up with phantom pain worse than before.
I just want the pain to stop. Is that too much to ask?
Duh, of course it is.
We often think doctors are miracle workers, but when it comes to severe nerve pain, medical professionals have very few treatments in their bag of tricks: Gabapentin, pain meds, injections, ablations, hot/cold packs, and implanted nerve stimulator.
Rarely are these treatments permanent; and that is if you can get insurance to pay for it.
Unfortunately, as chronic nerve pain patients will tell you, this sort of pain rarely goes away, regardless of the treatment.
Personally, I’m grateful for whatever relief I can find, but some days I wonder . . . and when I “wonder” it can lead to interesting Google searches.
I still have both legs. All I want is for the pain to stop. Until that happens, I have no other option but to bite hard on the stick of modern medicine, hoping for a bit of relief.
Another day, another fight with pain and my very existence. There’s a new problem . . . Wild swings in blood sugar level. A 24-hour glucose monitor tells a story of a man with gastroparesis and exocrine pancreatitis insufficiency; a man whose pancreas is out of sync with his stomach and digestive track, leading to the abnormal highs and lows he is now facing.
It is what it is.
My partner has long since drifted off to sleep. Not me. Sleep eludes me as it has almost every night for 30 years.
1:00 AM . . . Cymbalta popped
2:00 AM . . . Cannabis gummy ingested
4:00 AM . . . Hydrocodone swallowed
Headphones on, as the sweet British voice of Jon Cohen prepares to sing me to sleep.
4:20 AM . . . I roll on my left side, pull my legs into a fetal position, and pull a large, firm pillow to my chest.
Soon after, I fall asleep,
Finally, sleep. If my blood glucose level drops below 55, an alarm will sound, hopefully waking me up.
8:10 AM . . . Partially awake, my first thought has earth shattering implications. What’s the correct word for backing up a recording; you know like backing up a car?
Dammit, why can’t I remember this word?
Too tired to care. I’ll message Carolyn later. She knows everything. Well, almost, anyway.
Back to sleep.
OCD-brain says, Wait a minute, there’s an unanswered question for you to answer!
Leave me alone.
Surely you jest. Answer the question!
Back up the recording?
Rewind the recording?
Reverse the recording?
No, dammit. What is it called when you back up-rewind-reverse, no, no, no! Dummy. It’s . . . uh . . .a time mark? Yes, that will work for me.
Finally, sleep arrives. All is right in the world, at least until I awake again a few hours later.
While under the influence of the Spirit I thought . . .
(Inner Monologue)
Why do I feel so funny?
What have I eaten today? When is the last time I have eaten?
Hmm . . . 12 hours.
So my blood sugar is low. No need to check it. It’s in the 50s when I feel like this,
You need to drink a coke and eat something.
Ugh. Will I or won’t I vomit?
Okay, I’ll drink a coke and eat a sandwich.
My mind is now silent . . .
I think I will lie down rest for a moment. And then I think I’ll drink a coke, maybe even two.
To weak now to stand, I fall on the bed.
Weak as I may be, my mind is clear.
Fuck Coke. Fuck Sandwich too.
Sleep. When I sleep I’m not in pain.
I lift my head and nod.
Sleep.
Most nights a different voice says: Wake up. Think of Polly. Think of your family, your grandchildren. Don’t be a selfish prick. You owe it to them to suffer til the bitter end.
Tonight, this voice is silent. My mind is clear. Isn’t all death selfish? Do I owe anyone my continued existence? All I want is for this god damn pain to stop. You know like when you are under anesthesia. Wonderful, pain-free, thought-free sleep.
Sleep.
They say true love endures to the end. Almost, as in the love I share with Polly. But on this night, memories will have to suffice. I want the pain to stop. I want the nightlong-wrestling-with-pain-just-to get-an-hour-or-two-of-sleep to stop.
Sleep.
Just let nature take its course. No one will know but us. Who is talking to us, or is it just me? I’m confused, yet my mind is clear.
Pain.
Sleep.
Soon, nature wins this titanic struggle. Pain always knew that in the end nature wins. Nature always wins.
For in her kingdom, tears gone, crying gone, pain gone. (Revelation 21:4 kinda)
So on this night, with a clear mind, I selfishly choose blessed wonderful pain-free sleep. Tonight must be about me.
Sleep.
(Polly enters my thought)
I feel someone gently pushing on my side, calling out my name, asking if I’m okay.
No, I’m not okay. My blood sug. . . ar is uh . . . low . . . I need a Coke.
I’m cold, I mean really really cold. Unbeknownst to me, I had slept for hours, sweating the whole time, a sweat soaked bed witness to the deed. I’m freezing, as my glucose level continues to drop. Death draws ever closer.
I put my heavy blue terry robe on and lie back down. Just a little rest. Can’t I at least have that tonight?
Someone covers me with another blanket.
You need to drink something. If not a Coke, how about orange juice?
There’s the gentleness of love in her voice, tinged with concern, yet she knows I have long talked of this day, even more so recently. Is it not his choice, and not mine?
I just want to sleep. I’m tired. I can’t stand the pain, the incessant suffering.
I could argue mental incompetency or dementia. Don’t my wants and needs matter?, Polly wonders.
Not at this final moment in time. We all will one day stand at this very point.
A stifled cry, a soft voice, reminiscent of the girl I met fifty years ago, says I understand.
Bruce Gerencser, 69, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 48 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia in 1997. Since then, I have added osteoarthritis, degenerative spine disease, gastroparesis, exocrine pancreatic insufficiency, and severe axonal neuropathy to my health resume, along with a plethora of debilitating symptoms that afflict me day and night.
Over the past thirty years, countless people have suggested I do this or that for pain; that they are sure if I will do ___________ that all or most of my pain will magically disappear. Anecdotes abound. I know a person who did __________ and their fibromyalgia went completely away! I know another person who took this or that supplement/magic food, and all their pain disappeared! And so the emails, texts, and social media messages say, day after day, month after month, year after year. Never mind what I want. They just KNOW that if I will follow their anecdotal proclamations, I will be healed.
What follows is a list of things I have tried for pain since 1997:
Prayer
Pleading with God
Asking others to pray for my healing
Pretending I am not in pain
Magnets
Genie massager
Chiropractor
Darvocet (removed from market due to causing heart problems)
Tramadol
Flexeril
Restoril
Amitriptyline
Lyrica
Guaifenesin (off label use)
TENS unit
Diet change
Exercise
Supplements
Hydrocodone
Gabapentin
Steaming hot baths (with magnesium epsom salts)
Distraction
Moved to Yuma, Arizona, hoping the weather would be good for me
Electric heating pads for legs, neck, and spine
Gel boiled water heating pads
Padded bed covering
Weighted blanket
Aspirin and Tylenol
Massage by Miss Polly, the sexy masseuse
Surgery
Therapy
Steroid and lidocaine injections
Physical therapy (a waste of time)
NSAID creams and patches (worthless)
Ambien
Gabapentin again
Flexeril again
Pain medications cut or removed per medical practice policy
Hit other body part to take away pain in extremity
Cannabis
Cymbalta (for neuropathy in legs)
Crying
During this time I read books about Fibromyalgia and chronic pain. I also saw more doctors than I can count: primary care doctor, rheumatologist, neurologist, multiple pain management doctors, and neurosurgeon. I’ve been seen by teams of doctors at the University of Michigan and Toledo Hospital. In 2007, I had a complete day-long work-up for multiple sclerosis (MS).
Here’s what has worked — so far:
Hydrocodone
Aspirin and Tylenol
Massage by Miss Polly, the sexy masseuse
Genie massager (a professional electric massager used in therapy/chiropractor offices)
Hot baths
Electric heating pads
Cymbalta (for neuropathy)
Cannabis (for sleep and nausea, doesn’t do much for pain, outside of helping me sleep)
Distraction (particularly cats, grandchildren, and writing)
As you can see, I have done what I can to alleviate my pain. The “miracle” jar is empty, and no cure is on the horizon. I fully expect to live the remaining days of my life in pain. It is what it is. I can accept that, though it seems other well-meaning people can’t. They are certain that if I will just listen to them and do ___________, my pain will markedly decrease or go away. Their “certainty” turns them into prophets of woo — a term used to describe beliefs involving pseudoscience, superstition, or magical thinking.
Want to help me? Continue to read my writing. Send me an encouraging email or message now and again. Comment on this blog. Donate (see, Bruce is in it for the money). Write a guest post. Promote my blog far and wide. Suggest to me subjects to cover with a blog post. Send Polly a note, thanking her for putting up with my shit. Bethany too. Both of them deserve better.
Thank you for your continued love and support.
Bruce Gerencser, 69, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 48 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
As you may have noticed, I haven’t posted a meaningful post in nine days. Outside of my life partner, Polly, and my writing partner, Carolyn, I haven’t talked to family or friends about my current health status.
For new readers who may not know what’s ailing me, I am battling several diseases: gastroparesis (an incurable stomach disease that causes vomiting, nausea, satiation, weight loss); exocrine pancreatic insufficiency (a disease of the pancreas causing the insufficient production of digestive enzymes, leading to diarrhea, weight loss, and malnutrition); severe axonal neuropathy (a painful nerve disease in my legs and feet causing burning, numbness, and increased falls and injury); fibromyalgia (a chronic disease that causes widespread muscle pain/weakness and fatigue); osteoarthritis (a chronic degenerative disease affecting my joints causing pain and debility); degenerative spine disease (affecting my neck and spine causing pain and limited mobility); skin cancer (I have had five cancer surgeries and chemotherapy treatments, the last being surgery on my neck for melanoma three weeks ago). I am also being treated for high blood pressure and diabetes—both of which are well managed. My latest a1c was 5.8.
Of late, my pain levels have been impossible to manage. I could always take more narcotics—they work—but then I will spend my days unable to do anything other than exist and sleep. The rest of the stuff is out of my control. I regularly see my primary care doctor, take prescribed medications, eat properly, and sleep when I can. “Sleep when I can” means I sleep in short 1-3 hour blocks throughout the night, and then nap throughout the day. I am never not tired or fatigued.
Of late, I’ve been losing weight again. I have lost a total of 120 pounds. I’m down to what I weighed 30 years ago. I have little to no appetite, so eating has been reduced to “eating because I have too” unless I want to starve myself to death. My diarrhea and vomiting have gotten to the point that I fear going out in public lest I have an accident. Two weeks ago, I had an abdominal CT scan, with contrast. Down went the contrast, up came the contrast, in a waiting room of people. I was so embarrassed to make such a public scene. I’m a private person, so there’s the added psychological stress from embarrassing myself in front of others.
My daily life has come to a standstill. Three weeks of unopened mail sits on my desk. I haven’t filed our taxes—which I’ve done for 50 years. I contacted one local man about doing our taxes, but he wanted $250 to do them (W-2 wages, social security, one Schedule C for my blog income/expenses). That’s not going to happen, so I need a “good” day soon to file. Blog-wise, I haven’t answered reader emails in several months, and my writing output has declined 90 percent. Writing is one of the few pleasures I have in life, so I find the inability to do so distressing.
There’s no cure on the horizon. All doctors can do for me is help to manage my symptoms. There are days when I feel “this is it.” A week ago, for some unknown reason, my blood pressure dropped to 98/50, with a 120 resting pulse rate. I also had dangerously low blood sugar. I woke Polly up, stammering and unable to talk in complete sentences. She got me a Coke and some high carb junk food to eat, and my blood sugar rebounded to a low normal level. Polly took the day off of work to care for her dilapidated, but still s-e-x-y, man. Gotta have some humor, right? 😂
There are other problems I’m dealing with health-wise, but they are inconsequential compared to what I’ve shared above. I suspect it’s time to ask family to come in and help, but I find it difficult to make my problems theirs. They have their own lives to live. My family will say of me: “Bruce/Dad/Grandpa is a stubborn, prideful man who doesn’t like to ask for help.” When I was a strong buck, I was the master of my domain, but such is no longer the case. As anyone with chronic pain/health problems will tell you, one of the biggest problems to deal with is the inability to be self sufficient.
I hope to do some writing tomorrow. Of course, I’ve told Carolyn that every day for a week. Maybe Tuesday will be the day! 😂 I texted Carolyn earlier, “As you might have divined, rough days and nights lately. Still I hope, so tomorrow is another day to write.”
Bruce Gerencser, 69, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 48 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
Recently, I heard an Evangelical woman say on a podcast that God makes people sick so they will one day have a testimony of faith. Surely, you don’t want to miss out, in the midst of your suffering and affliction, on an opportunity to testify of your great faith in the triune God, right? What a disgusting way to look at suffering.
Worse, God is known for killing innocent people to get a believer’s attention. Who hasn’t heard an Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) preacher warn that, if necessary, God will maim or kill our loved ones to make sure Christians stay on the straight and narrow way? Imagine God giving your wife uterine cancer to get your attention. She dies a year later, and you are left with three children to raise. Does unnecessary suffering drive you closer to or farther away from God? Did you praise Jesus for your wife’s cancer? You better or God won’t be happy.
The longer I deal with in my own life chronic pain, suffering, and debility, the more often I come into contact with fellow sufferers. These are women and men who have been suffering for years, often praying and pleading for deliverance — without success. Why is God so silent towards pain and suffering? We are told he’s the Great Physician, but he never opens his black bag. Here we have an all-powerful God who could immediately cure ALL cancer, yet eight million people die worldwide of cancer every year — 625,000 deaths in the United States alone. I suspect that many of these cancer sufferers earnestly prayed for healing, or, at the very least, enough relief to sleep and enjoy life in their last days on Earth. Most cancer sufferers die painful deaths, often alone and without adequate pain relief. They find themselves tossing and turning while their pain-wracked bodies try to find a respite from never-ending suffering. It would be surprising if people didn’t cry out to God, the universe, a dead loved one, or the void. If I polled readers who have chronic pain, I suspect most of them, atheist and Christian alike, would admit that in the midst of Top Five pain day, they pleaded, “Please, help me.”
I have said this very thing in recent years as my health declines and I no longer find adequate pain control from narcotics and other medications. I’m confident there is no God. I know the Christian God doesn’t exist, so my plea is not to God as much as it is a psychological practice I use to keep from stabbing an ice pick through my left temple — I’m a liberal. 🙂 Other times, I will indeed get an answer. Not from God, but from a very real person named Polly. Long term sickies know how much their suffering affects their partner, children, and grandchildren. You don’t want it to be this way, but your body determines your path, not your personal wants and desires. Suffer long enough and you learn, despite TV advertisements that suggest otherwise, that your disease(s) dominate your life. And if it dominates your life, it can’t help but play an outsized influence on the lives of your family.
Have you ever been in pain and “prayed” please help me? If you are an atheist, how do you reconcile that with your unbelief? Is this just a carryover from your religious past, or is this a tool you use to control your suffering? Please share your experiences in the comment section.
Bruce Gerencser, 69, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 48 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
Today is the day. Soon we will drive from our home in Ney to Fort Wayne to attend a 1980s-focused concert at the Clyde Theater. I am in a lot of pain, so much so that if we had not already bought tickets, we would have stayed home. . .
After eating dinner at our favorite Chinese restaurant, we made our way over to the Clyde, arriving shortly before the gate opened. By this time, my body was screaming in pain, despite having already taken narcotic medications. “Such is life,” I told myself, knowing that pain is the high price I pay for admission.
The Clyde staffer who handles handicapped (ADA) seating already had three seats reserved for us at the front of the right loge section (our regular seats). By concert time, the venue was filled, ready for a wonderful night of ’80s rock and roll.
The show was everything we expected, and more. Two and half hours long, the concert took a toll on me physically. I can only imagine what the people sitting in back of us who watched me move back and front and side to side in my wheelchair trying to get comfortable must have thought. Throughout the night, I felt my partner’s hand on my leg, trying to comfort me in the midst of my suffering. A small gesture, but I appreciated it.
After the concert ended, we waited to leave the venue so we could avoid people cutting in front of me or banging into my wheelchair. Eventually, we made it to the lobby, only to find it crowded with people wanting to take a photo with the band.
My partner and our adult daughter with Down syndrome headed for the bathroom, as I sat there out of the way watching people, minding my own business. The girls returned from the bathroom. Finally . . . we are headed home. Soon I will feel the blessed heat of heated car seats on my body.
You, of course, knew none of these things. How could you? You and I don’t know each other. Outside of our common appreciation of ’80s rock music, we were total strangers. As we were walking away from the crowd, our daughter asked if she could have her picture taken with the band. I hesitated, wanting to get to the car as soon as possible . . . you know, the whole pain thing, right?
You heard my daughter’s request. Instead of letting me handle the matter, you quickly inserted yourself into our discussion.
“Come on, Dad. Let her get her picture taken.”
“Uh, no, we really need to go.”
“It will just take a minute.”
By now, dozens of people were staring at me, listening to this woman’s increasingly loud voice.
Thoroughly embarrassed, I finally acquiesced, and Bethany quickly joined the band for a picture.
But, you couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?
“Come on Mom and Dad, you get in the picture too.”
“No, that’s okay.”
“Come on, you will be glad you did.”
“no, I . . .”
But you were insistent, and not wanting to be embarrassed any further, I said, “Fine.”
My partner started pushing my wheelchair towards the picture set, only to have me tersely say, “PLEASE STOP.” It took several pleas for the motion forward to stop. The venue was loud with conversation, so my partner could not hear me initially.
“I will use my cane instead.”
And with that, I tried to get out of my wheelchair, falling partially forward. Eventually, I made it to the front, and joined the picture. You were so happy that I played your game. Innocent or not, you showed no regard for me as a person. You decided you knew what was best for me; that I would regret not having this picture taken. What I regret is not putting you in your place. I regret not schooling you on personal space and bodily autonomy. I know you meant well, but you hurt me anyway. All I wanted to do was exit the venue, get in the car, and turn on the heated seats. Put yourself in my shoes. Is that too much to ask?
Please do better.
Bruce Gerencser, 69, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 48 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
According to the Bible, pain and suffering are tests, trials, and punishments from God. God punished Adam and Eve for eating fruit off a forbidden tree:
And to the man he [God] said, Because you have listened to the voice of your wife and have eaten of the tree about which I commanded you,‘You shall not eat of it,’ cursed is the ground because of you; in toil you shall eat of it all the days of your life; thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you; and you shall eat the plants of the field. By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread until you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken you are dust, and to dust you shall return. (Genesis 3:17-19 NRSV)
While Evangelicals love to protect God’s honor, the Bible is clear: all pain and suffering comes from God himself. I have firsthand experience with pain and suffering. All of us, if we live long enough, will have similar experiences, though the reason, degree, and length will vary from person to person. Most of us have experienced acute pain:
Acute pain is a sudden, short-term pain that signals a specific injury or illness and typically goes away once the cause is treated or healed.
Chronic pain is pain that lasts for over three months. You may feel the pain all the time or it may come and go. It can happen anywhere in your body and has countless causes.
Chronic pain is pain that doesn’t do away. It may get better or worse, but this sort of pain never goes away. This is the kind of pain I have had since the late 1990s. There’s not been a day since I was forty years old that I have been pain-free. What started with fibromyalgia has grown like a brushfire with osteoarthritis, degenerative spine disease, gastroparesis, and exocrine pancreatic insufficiency. Today, my life is one long, exhausting struggle with pain. My goal every day has been to control my pain well enough that I have enough energy to write and do work around the house. Some days, it is impossible for me to do anything more than survive; to live to face another day. And other days, all I want to do is die. I love my family, but sometimes my pain is so severe that all I want, in the moment, is for the pain to stop.
Chronic pain sufferers know that pain medications become less effective over time. That’s the case for me. I’ve been taking narcotic drugs for twenty years. Over this time, I have unnecessarily suffered because of the government’s and Parkview Hospital’s war on chronic pain sufferers. I take fifty percent less morphine load today than I did five years ago. I have largely found that local pain doctors are worthless; more concerned with doing injections and procedures than they are managing the suffering of chronic pain sufferers. And even worse, local pain doctors, to the person, oppose cannabis use. Figure that one out.
If the goal of medicine is to lessen suffering, why don’t doctors do more to help their chronic pain patients? My primary care doctor plans to retire in four years. He told me it is unlikely, due to clinic policies, that another doctor will write my narcotic scripts. I replied, “No problem. I plan to be dead by then.” My doctor thought I was being funny, but I most certainly was not. Without narcotic pain medications — yes, many people really need them — I will not survive. “But, Bruce, aren’t you worried about becoming a drug addict?” Are you kidding? Of course not. I have CHRONIC pain. It never, ever goes away. I suspect my pain will only get worse with time. How could it be otherwise? My spine — from neck to coccyx — shoulders, and hands continue to structurally deteriorate. I can easily see a time when I can no longer type or walk. As it stands now, I use a cane, walker, or a wheelchair to get around.
If I am a chronic pain sufferer, why does it matter if I become “addicted”? If I was in hospice with terminal pancreatic cancer, would I be given narcotics for pain control? Would the goal be to ease my suffering? Of course, it would. Why, then, is it any different for chronic pain sufferers? Just because we are dying “slowly” doesn’t mean we aren’t in just as much pain as those who have terminal illnesses.
I do all I can on any given day to manage and control my pain: heating pads, steaming hot baths, Tylenol/aspirin, TENS unit, stretching exercises, massage, cannabis, and, yes, narcotic pain medications. I also take medications to manage symptoms from gastroparesis and exocrine pancreatic insufficiency. Cannabis has reduced my nausea and vomiting, so there’s that, for which I am grateful.
I see a neurosurgeon later this week; the same surgeon who did my surgery a year ago. Hopefully, he will provide an answer for my lower back pain and awful neuropathic leg pain. If so, I will have surgery again, though I am hesitant to do so. All I know to do to is gather information and decide accordingly.
Are you a chronic pain sufferer? Is your pain well-managed? Please share your experiences in the comment section.
Bruce Gerencser, 69, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 48 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
Recently, a Christian man named Marlin had this to say about me:
I dislike Dennis Corle and I know Jack Hyles was evil. But you’re using them as part of your excuse as to why you’re no longer Christian, when it’s pretty clear you never were a believer.
As is my custom, I sent Marlin a link to my response.
Marlin replied:
You’re an old faggot who will burn even hotter for being a scoffer
Marlin reveals that he is either still an Independent Fundamentalist Baptist or his thinking and behavior are deeply influenced by IFB beliefs. By far, the nastiest people I’ve interacted with on this site are IFB Christians.
One tactic often used by IFB Christians is to call your opponent a faggot, queer, gay, or homosexual. This has nothing to do with sexuality. The goal is to marginalize and defame, and by doing so, this allows them to dismiss my story out of hand.
Marlin goes on to say that I am a “scoffer,” and I will suffer greater punishment in Hell for my unbelief. Of course, Marlin provides no evidence for his claim. He doesn’t address the fact that, according to many Independent Baptists, I am still a Christian. Once saved, always saved, right? He also doesn’t address the fact that followers of Jesus can and do deconvert.
When confronted with the awfulness of eternal punishment in the Lake of Fire, many Evangelicals will say that it is not up to them who ends up in Hell. They genuinely feel bad that their beliefs require the eternal punishment of their family, friends, neighbors, and coworkers. Marlin, evidently, has no such qualms. No, in his mind, I never was a Christian, and I will suffer eternal punishment in the Lake of Fire for my unrepentant unbelief. He KNOWS I am going to fry forever. Maybe Marlin is God in drag?
Marlin then left the following comment:
Intellectual reasons? You left Christianity after your neurological problems left you wheelchair-bound. You’re a sad, bitter old man. You were never a Christian because your idol is yourself. You loved your ability to walk and yourself more than the Lord, then claim your superior intellect evolved you beyond the things of God.
In my first response to him, I told Marlin that he was wrong about the reason I left Christianity; that I primarily deconverted for intellectual reasons. Marlin rejects my claim, saying that I “left Christianity after your neurological problems left you wheelchair-bound.” Is there any truth to his claim? Of course not. Marlin has constructed a strawman of me in his mind. Instead of critiquing my life according to what I have written, Marlin uses the strawman Bruce instead. This, of course, leads to faulty conclusions.
I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia twelve years before I deconverted. I didn’t start regularly using a wheelchair until 2009 — after I deconverted. It wasn’t until 2022 that I started using a wheelchair (or walker) anytime I am forced to walk more than short distances. I typically use a cane for short distances, a walker for moderate distances, and a wheelchair for long distances or times when I am required to sit for long periods of time.
As everyone but Marlin can see, my disability began when I was still a Christian and a pastor. My health problems played little to no part in my deconversion. I have never blamed “God” for my physical struggles. Life is what it is, and I accept the fact that chronic pain and suffering are as much a part of my life as breathing.
Marlin goes on to say that I am a sad, bitter man. Marlin provides no evidence for his claim. He doesn’t know me, so on what basis does he conclude that I am sad and bitter? I am neither, though, at times, my pain levels reach #10 on the chart, and I can and do feel sad. Who wouldn’t want relief from chronic pain and suffering?
Marlin again claims I was never a Christian. He then adds that I worship myself, saying, “You loved your ability to walk and yourself more than the Lord, then claim your superior intellect evolved you beyond the things of God.”
Honestly, it is hard to tell what Marlin means here. He seems to say that I loved the ability to walk more than I loved God. How did Marlin come to such a faulty conclusion? There’s nothing in my story that remotely suggests I worshipped the man, myth, and legend Jesus Christ. No, as my therapist would tell Marlin if asked, I think poorly of myself, struggling to maintain a healthy self-esteem.
As far as my intellect is concerned, what else should I use to determine my beliefs and make decisions? I assume Marlin does the same. Oh, wait, with one big difference. His intellect is sotted with Christian dogma and practices. They color every judgment he makes. This, of course, can be true of all of us. Our presuppositions can and do lead to faulty conclusions. That’s why I do my best to skeptically and rationally make decisions without bias from presuppositions. Marlin, on the other hand, thinks his peculiar interpretation of the Protestant Christian Bible is superior to anything I might believe. This, of course, is a common problem when dealing with Evangelical Christians. They are certain that they are “right”; that their beliefs and practices come straight from the triune God himself.
Marlin provides no evidence for any of his claims; just assertions and personal opinions. I challenge him to justify his accusations about me. I am confident that he will not do so because his whole view of me is based on a strawman caricature of me.
Bruce Gerencser, 69, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 48 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
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I have been told countless times over the past twenty years, what doesn’t kill you will make you stronger. Is this a true statement? Not from my perspective. Two-plus decades of chronic pain and suffering have not made me stronger. Over the years, I have been diagnosed with and treated for (in order of severity): degenerative spine disease, peripheral nerve pain, gastroparesis, exocrine pancreatic insufficiency, osteoarthritis, diabetes, and high blood pressure. I have also been treated for basal cell and squamous cell skin cancer three times, with another treatment forthcoming due to a cancerous growth on my left forearm.
My first battles with health problems date back to the 1980s. Primarily immune system problems, I ended up in the hospital with mononucleosis in 1991. What is called a “kissing disease” for teenagers, for adults, mono is a serious disease that can kill you. I was so sick that I had a 104-degree temperature, my liver and spleen were swollen, as were my lymph glands, and my adenoids and tonsils were pure white from infection. The internist treating me said that there was little he could do for me; that it was up to my body to fend for itself. I eventually recovered. All told, I lost over fifty pounds and was unable to preach for two months. One oddity to come out this is that my normal body temperature is now 97.0 degrees. (Good luck trying to explain to a nurse that 99 degrees is the equivalent of 100.6 degrees — you know, a fever.)
Suffering is part of the human experience. All of us will suffer at one time or another in our lives, and our suffering is unique to each of us. Can suffering make us stronger? Sure, it can, but that doesn’t mean it necessarily does. I know that for me, I don’t see anything redemptive in my suffering. I don’t have pain-free days — ever. I have bad days, less bad days, and days when I want to kill myself. My mobility is greatly diminished, and I am prone to nasty falls. Life is what it is, and I accept that this is life until I die. No magic surgeries or miracle drugs await me. What DOES await is life, and I do what I can to make the most of it.
Has chronic pain and suffering made me a better man? Maybe. I am more empathetic towards the suffering of others. As a fellow sufferer, I understand what they are going through. However, I am more inclined to think that pain and suffering have turned me into a broken man; a man who silently pleads for a day, just one day, without pain. I have found that the only pain-free times in life were when the anesthesiologist told me to count back from ten as I fell asleep.
Please don’t tell a chronic pain sufferer that their suffering is making them stronger. You can’t know this, so instead of pretending you are a mindreader, how about (gently) embracing their suffering with love, kindness, and compassion?
Bruce Gerencser, 69, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 48 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.
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