Sunday, May 26, 2013
Things to Do
In actuality, I am hurt. It’s been over a week and it’s not any better. It’s not like any back pain that I’ve had before. It’s not sore from overuse and some rest will do the trick. It’s not like I tweaked it and if I move a certain way, it’s going to spasm and “go out,” and maybe I need an anti-inflammatory. This is different. This feels like something is wrong. It feels like my spine is collapsing in on itself like an accordion. Like the air was let out of it. It reminds me of what the Twin Towers looked like when they collapsed.
When I first get up in the morning, it feels pretty good. And then as soon as I start bending (and everything you do, whether you realize it or not, requires bending—I empty the coffee filter into the garbage, I bend. I fill the cats’ bowl, I bend. I turn on the faucet in the tub, I bend), it starts hurting. I can’t sit at the computer. I can’t put my socks on. I can’t get up in the truck. The only time it feels better is when I’m straight, standing up, or especially, lying down.
I wish Kurt could give me one of his massages where he gently stretches my spine apart (I swear, he missed his calling—he should have been a chiropractor) but he’s been working day and night. He has worked twenty days straight. He is working today, even though it’s Sunday and it’s Memorial Day weekend. He comes home when it’s dark and all I can see are the whites of his eyes because he is covered with grout or flooring patch or whatever he is using. I can’t ask him for a massage.
I thought it would get better and I’d be back to riding this week but that’s not happening. This is not good when I’m trying not to smoke because one way I stay off the cigarettes is by staying active. I keep busy. I ride my horse, I do projects, I plant flowers. I want a cigarette, I get up and move! It not only distracts me, but it keeps me from blowing like a big fat whale. I think I’ve already gained an extra ten pounds just this week now that I’ve been out of commission. Now I’m craving cigarettes even more because I’m depressed about how fat I am and I can’t do anything about it. There is nothing I can cut out food-wise. I don’t overeat. I never overeat when I quit smoking because I couldn’t care less about food—I want my nicotine! But I have started eating breakfast. I never used to eat breakfast. Suddenly, since quitting smoking, I am hungry in the morning. That’s normal and that’s good. I have a cup of yogurt and a small bowl of granola cereal. That’s all. The only other thing is I’ve been treating myself to half-and-half and flavored creamers in my coffee after supper. But that’s it. I shouldn’t be blowing like a whale! And now I can’t exercise!
I’m insulted. I can’t believe I had the nerve to get hurt. I can’t believe I’m not bouncing right back. I always bounce right back. I’m just like my mother. She bounced back from everything. Her claim to fame was how she gave birth to my sister and that weekend she was dancing on a bar, that’s on the bar, in Hoboken. When she fell and broke her hip (not off the bar; this was thirty-something years later on said sister’s icy porch), she was back on her feet so fast that her doctor called in other doctors and they crowded around her bed and polled her, wanting to know if she was some kind of positive thinker because we all know that attitude is half the battle. What else could it be? They all saw the broken bone on the X-ray and there was no denying it; it was bad. “No. No,” she said, waving a hand. “I just have things to do.”
On a good note, I had been wondering how my bones were going to hold up on the next fall. My mother had osteoporosis and I’m in menopause so I was worried about it. The last time I fell was back in Virginia when I was vacuuming up ladybugs off the ceiling and the stool slipped out from underneath me and I landed full force on my back and nothing happened. Obviously my bones are good because this time I fell even higher. The video shows me up in the air, over his head, before I fell onto the ground. So it was quite a distance. No broken bones. I’m assuming no broken bones because I haven’t seen the doctor yet but like I said in my last post, I don’t think I’d be walking if anything was broke. No, my guess is that I popped a disk.
I see the doctor Tuesday evening. But the way it works nowadays is she won’t be able to tell me squat. She will offer me pain pills which I won’t take because I’m not a pill-taker. She will give me a referral to get some kind of scan thing. Might be a regular X-ray. Might be an ultrasound. Or an MRI. It will take a week before I will be able to get in to see those people, then a few more days before they send the results to my doctor. Then I will have to go back in there so she can tell me what they saw. The whole rigmarole will take so long that I will be all better by that time. That’s my hope. Because I have things to do.