Glass Spine.
Nov. 13th, 2011 06:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brightrosefoxSo. I once again threw my back out, triggered extreme body spasms, and have been experiencing unfathomable whole body pain. The best thing about having a loving helpful partner who understands is that he is loving and helpful and he understands. Also he teaches me various meditative exercises. Hooray for my side.
Addendum: OMG PAINKILLERS YAY.
To sum up: Adam and I made our semi-annual run to Costco. We bought: A giant block of Dubliner's cheese, a container of buffalo mozzarella, a jug of milk, two liters of acai juice, a liter of pomegranate juice, two cases of Ziploc bags, a 25-lb bag of dry cat food, two 42-lb bags of kitty litter, a giant stack of toilet tissue, a large box of trash bags, some drinkable Greek yogurt, and a large log of salami. We saved a good deal of money and time, because that what happens at Costco. You buy several months' worth of a thing.
I, having been alone for a whole week and still used to doing stuff by myself, decided to empty one of the cat litter bags into an old litter bucket that we keep in the litter closet that serves as the cats' "bathroom." I proudly and happily transferred 42 pounds of litter into the bucket and moved the bucket into place next to the litter boxes. And then hell broke loose. Perhaps it was not the only thing that pushed my body over the edge, but it was the proverbial straw.
Adam had already gone upstairs, and I did not want to bother him. As I inched and shuffled my way toward the stairs, I became aware of Luna and Rose following me and making concerned sounds. I stood at the bottom of the stairs and grabbed the bannister on the left. I pressed my right hand against the wall. I lifted one foot. I cried out. I kept going. It was like moving a planet. Step by tiny painful spastic step. Soon, Adam came out and saw me. He sat at the top of the stairs and encouraged me with sadness on his face. He said, "It's like watching the train coming, but the train is in Ohio." I was so determined. I finally made it all the way up, fell on my knees and inched my way to the bedroom, where I crawled toward the bureau that held the tiny dresser where I kept my prescription medication. I hauled myself upright, sobbing. I leaned against the bureau, and took the Soma bottle, opening it slowly. I drank a pill down, and hobbled my way into the entertainment room. Adam examined me and said my body's reaction was that of shock and trauma. I was sweating, breathing rapidly, pale, cold, and shaking violently. He massaged my back and hips and legs as best he could. And then he taught me an exercise that he had been doing for years.
I was to imagine that my spine was made up of a series of glass cups and plates, and I must perform a balancing act. I must find a comfortable position to stand and walk in, and keep those cups and plates balanced. I could use my cane, I could lean on a wall, I could do whatever I had to. But I must maintain that steadiness so those glass cups balanced on my spine remained steady. It was an amazing exercise. I think I did all right for my first time. Adam has had years of practice, living with his own back pain as he does.
I am still... not well. Slight movements make me hurt. Sneezing makes me whimper. Even gentle stretching causes varying degrees of gasping agony. I am slowly making myself bend more and more, just so I can feed the cats their canned food and scoop their litter later. Going downstairs is a little better than going upstairs. I wish the SSDI evaluators could see this. This isn't normal. This shouldn't happen.
Guys, please don't take yourselves for granted. Cherish every mile you run, every hardcore yoga class you attend, every bicycling tour you complete, every dance routine you finish. The human body is meant to do so many amazing things. My body has issues, that's all. But I wish. I wish I had those kinds of excuses.
(I had to stop reading some people on Facebook because all they talked about was doing major outdoor sports and punishing kickboxing classes and extreme yoga poses and they went on about how sore they were afterwards, and all I could think was that it must be so wonderful to just do all those things and only really complain about pain after you've pushed your body to extremes like that. It must be nice, you know?)
In another body, I would probably be a dancer or a martial artist or one of those elitist super yoga people. In this body, I can do as much as I can before things start to fall apart. And that's all right. These things happen. It doesn't mean I can't try dancing or martial arts or super yoga. It just means that I hurt more often for no actual reason. No big deal. That's why it's called Chronic Pain.
Also, thank you whoever invented the idea of heating pads.
Addendum: OMG PAINKILLERS YAY.
To sum up: Adam and I made our semi-annual run to Costco. We bought: A giant block of Dubliner's cheese, a container of buffalo mozzarella, a jug of milk, two liters of acai juice, a liter of pomegranate juice, two cases of Ziploc bags, a 25-lb bag of dry cat food, two 42-lb bags of kitty litter, a giant stack of toilet tissue, a large box of trash bags, some drinkable Greek yogurt, and a large log of salami. We saved a good deal of money and time, because that what happens at Costco. You buy several months' worth of a thing.
I, having been alone for a whole week and still used to doing stuff by myself, decided to empty one of the cat litter bags into an old litter bucket that we keep in the litter closet that serves as the cats' "bathroom." I proudly and happily transferred 42 pounds of litter into the bucket and moved the bucket into place next to the litter boxes. And then hell broke loose. Perhaps it was not the only thing that pushed my body over the edge, but it was the proverbial straw.
Adam had already gone upstairs, and I did not want to bother him. As I inched and shuffled my way toward the stairs, I became aware of Luna and Rose following me and making concerned sounds. I stood at the bottom of the stairs and grabbed the bannister on the left. I pressed my right hand against the wall. I lifted one foot. I cried out. I kept going. It was like moving a planet. Step by tiny painful spastic step. Soon, Adam came out and saw me. He sat at the top of the stairs and encouraged me with sadness on his face. He said, "It's like watching the train coming, but the train is in Ohio." I was so determined. I finally made it all the way up, fell on my knees and inched my way to the bedroom, where I crawled toward the bureau that held the tiny dresser where I kept my prescription medication. I hauled myself upright, sobbing. I leaned against the bureau, and took the Soma bottle, opening it slowly. I drank a pill down, and hobbled my way into the entertainment room. Adam examined me and said my body's reaction was that of shock and trauma. I was sweating, breathing rapidly, pale, cold, and shaking violently. He massaged my back and hips and legs as best he could. And then he taught me an exercise that he had been doing for years.
I was to imagine that my spine was made up of a series of glass cups and plates, and I must perform a balancing act. I must find a comfortable position to stand and walk in, and keep those cups and plates balanced. I could use my cane, I could lean on a wall, I could do whatever I had to. But I must maintain that steadiness so those glass cups balanced on my spine remained steady. It was an amazing exercise. I think I did all right for my first time. Adam has had years of practice, living with his own back pain as he does.
I am still... not well. Slight movements make me hurt. Sneezing makes me whimper. Even gentle stretching causes varying degrees of gasping agony. I am slowly making myself bend more and more, just so I can feed the cats their canned food and scoop their litter later. Going downstairs is a little better than going upstairs. I wish the SSDI evaluators could see this. This isn't normal. This shouldn't happen.
Guys, please don't take yourselves for granted. Cherish every mile you run, every hardcore yoga class you attend, every bicycling tour you complete, every dance routine you finish. The human body is meant to do so many amazing things. My body has issues, that's all. But I wish. I wish I had those kinds of excuses.
(I had to stop reading some people on Facebook because all they talked about was doing major outdoor sports and punishing kickboxing classes and extreme yoga poses and they went on about how sore they were afterwards, and all I could think was that it must be so wonderful to just do all those things and only really complain about pain after you've pushed your body to extremes like that. It must be nice, you know?)
In another body, I would probably be a dancer or a martial artist or one of those elitist super yoga people. In this body, I can do as much as I can before things start to fall apart. And that's all right. These things happen. It doesn't mean I can't try dancing or martial arts or super yoga. It just means that I hurt more often for no actual reason. No big deal. That's why it's called Chronic Pain.
Also, thank you whoever invented the idea of heating pads.
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no subject
Date: 2011-11-14 02:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-14 05:03 pm (UTC)Even for someone like me, a good regular workout routine is so crucial. Even if it's just slowly walking in place while watching TV.
no subject
Date: 2011-11-14 03:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-14 05:11 pm (UTC)You did WHAT??? No wonder you're hurting! I can just imagine what would happen to me if I did that--my left wrist replacement would snap in two, I'd strain my right shoulder and elbow, etc....
I hope you're feeling a bit better today, but please respect your limits a little bit more in the future... Just because this isn't normal and shouldn't happen doesn't mean you should believe it won't happen when you do "normal" things.
*hugs*
Also, I apologize if this comment is a little harsh. Not having the best day myself.
no subject
Date: 2011-11-14 05:20 pm (UTC)I guess not.
Really, I was proud of myself. But I should have just kept going with the cup, scooping until the bucket was full.
I mean, something would have damaged me at some point, anyway. Might as well have a good excuse, right?
You have every right to be stunned and harsh! :) I know what I did was a bad idea. I wasn't thinking. But I am so used to this, it's just... I dunno. You know?
Everyone keeps telling me to push my limits. On the one hand, I want to. On the other hand, I want to respect those limits. *throws hands up in air*
no subject
Date: 2011-11-14 05:23 pm (UTC)Are you feeling any better today?
no subject
Date: 2011-11-14 05:28 pm (UTC)I'm just... I've been coddled and helped all my life, and I just thought... you know, this one time... Yeah.
I'm just so tired of people telling me to be strong and do things for myself because they believe I'm stronger than I seem, and I convince myself that I am, and then this happens.
I am feeling better today. I'll be using my cane to walk everywhere, and I took my strongest painkiller, which contains codeine. MetroAccess disability transit will pick me up at home and take me to my psychotherapist. After my therapy session, my husband will pick me up. Right now, I have some minor lower back spasms that are triggering some sciatic pain, but the codeine is doing its thing.
no subject
Date: 2011-11-14 05:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-14 10:42 pm (UTC)