Yippee! Good times.
I was making some chicken soup Thursday evening. I was digging around in the fridge, and I felt a twinge. As soon as the words "Fuck Fuck Fuck, not again, Pig Fuckin' Whore, Fuckass Fuck Fuck Fuck!" passed my lips, an electric cattleprod was firmly pushed into my lower back. I was moving slowly that evening, and a couple of beers helped (particularly Bell's Batch 7000, thanks Tim), but the next morning was when I really knew the good times were a-rollin.' I couldn't sit up, get up or roll over without spasms that took my breath away with their intensity.
I don't like to miss work, despite the fact that I don't enjoy it. However, in the light of the fact that I was incapable of even the first of many activities that getting to work required, I called in.
Lindz got out of work early and helped me out of bed (where I had been lying motionless for six hours or so). We looked up a doctor online (I hadn't needed my current employer's benefits yet) and before long, Flexeril was coursing through my veins. I'm still pretty much useless, but it's fractionally better.
It's humbling. It's frustrating.
1)Mere seconds and one wrong move are all that separate me from being an invalid.
2)I've had a richly blessed, healthy life. When pain does show up, I'm unprepared for it.
3)Who the hell turned up the gravity?
4)Now that it hurts to even stand up, I'm filled with a desire to clean, fix or improve all sorts of things around the house. When I felt fine, I had no recollection that I even have gutters, much less that they are full of leaves.
5)I do not like being waited on in my own home. I appreciate it, but I prefer to be doing the serving.
6)If I'm still crippled on Thanksgiving (my favorite holiday, when I spend all day in the kitchen cooking and sipping Beaujolais Nouveau), I will be very pissed off indeed.
But hey, what the hell. I'm alive, this will get better, and, after all, God doesn't owe me shit. I've got it easy.
Saturday, November 19, 2005
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3 comments:
Dang! Condolences. I've been most fortunate in that I've had only limited experience with back pain, and even I know how it can screw up your life. If nothing else, try to still sip the Beaujolais.
My deepest condolences. I have lived with this very Damocles's sword since I was 21. I can go for months, even years without thinking about it, but it's always there. Tim's episode last February scared the bejeezus out of me, because the only thing worse than going through this yourself is watching it happen to someone else.
Flexeril and plenty of Ibuprofen, yes indeedy. And moist heat. A towel soaked in hot water really helped Tim. And you may swear you are going to be paralyzed for life, I can truthfully tell you you won't be.
My advice: start watching your weight. Now. The Kueffner predisposition for the love of all things tasty and the subsequent creeping weight gain is an enemy to be constantly on guard against. And the minute things feel normal again, start doing the abdominal exercises of your choice to strengthen your core muscles. If you weren't already doing them.
You poor bastard! Welcome to my hell? Indulge in the drugs and attention; let yourself get better.
Yer sista has given some fabulous recommendations. Having had my goddamned spine fused three years ago, I know how heartbreaking it is to wake up one day and find your world so compromised. I just had another MRI last week for mine, and I find out whether I've set myself up for another cutting next monday.
Rest, read and watch yer movies... and yeah, when you're feeling better, get thee to a gym and work on your core. It's the only preventative thing you can do besides keeping your hamstrings supple. Mmmm... I said "ham."
Keep us posted, fuckstick. Brian's laid-up too.
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