The days after I herniated the disc in my back were pretty awful... Actually the day it happened was ok... but the next day, I hobbled down the hall of the hotel as fast as I could, making it to my room just in time to break my puke-free since childhood record. And then I spent the night hobbling to the toilet to throw up (My doctor would later call it "Montezuma's revenge", but I just call it bad water), and then laying back in my bed on my side, the only comfortable position available.
The next day, Saturday, I spent in my hotel room, crying to my parents over Skype, hobbling around my room, eating tiny bites of green protein bar every couple of hours, grateful to have a large supply of clean water available.
This was a while ago, but I've been remembering a lot of it lately. On Wednesday this week, I met with my neurosurgeon to review my latest MRI. She was amazed by how much improvement I showed in the scan:"Your back was so bad that ten out of ten neurosurgeons would have operated on you... but you said no, which isn't necessarily the wrong response. Studies show that two years post injury, patients with or without surgery are in the same place."
So we agreed on physical therapy to help rebuild my muscles after sitting and resting for so long, and I started the somewhat complicated process of scheduling an appointment. Then I went out and worked in my yard, trimming vines, taking photos, cleaning my house. But pain memory and muscle loss is real. After so much activity, I spent all of Friday evening and today laying in bed because sitting is too painful. My back is still trying to teach me something. I haven't been in this much pain since I hurt my back, and I could not be more grateful to be learning it here, in my house, on my couch, with a dear friend stopping by to bring me straws to sip water, and Caleb and my brother around to make jokes. Every few hours, I get up and walk around slowly in my yard, rooting my feet to this place, helping my nerves to understand that I am okay, that we're in this together, that they aren't being pressed by misplaced disc any more.
I have books and snacks, and a yoga bolster (think very firm, long pillow) to put between my legs. I have warm clover outside in my yard that feels so good on my toes. I have medicine, I have supplements, I have good digestion. (If you can avoid violent digestive illness and severe back injury at the same time, I recommend it.) And so, even though I wanted to do so many other things today, I rest and I wait and I listen.
*Title of post based on this song:
The next day, Saturday, I spent in my hotel room, crying to my parents over Skype, hobbling around my room, eating tiny bites of green protein bar every couple of hours, grateful to have a large supply of clean water available.
This was a while ago, but I've been remembering a lot of it lately. On Wednesday this week, I met with my neurosurgeon to review my latest MRI. She was amazed by how much improvement I showed in the scan:"Your back was so bad that ten out of ten neurosurgeons would have operated on you... but you said no, which isn't necessarily the wrong response. Studies show that two years post injury, patients with or without surgery are in the same place."
So we agreed on physical therapy to help rebuild my muscles after sitting and resting for so long, and I started the somewhat complicated process of scheduling an appointment. Then I went out and worked in my yard, trimming vines, taking photos, cleaning my house. But pain memory and muscle loss is real. After so much activity, I spent all of Friday evening and today laying in bed because sitting is too painful. My back is still trying to teach me something. I haven't been in this much pain since I hurt my back, and I could not be more grateful to be learning it here, in my house, on my couch, with a dear friend stopping by to bring me straws to sip water, and Caleb and my brother around to make jokes. Every few hours, I get up and walk around slowly in my yard, rooting my feet to this place, helping my nerves to understand that I am okay, that we're in this together, that they aren't being pressed by misplaced disc any more.
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| I walk out and look at my daffodils from time to time. |
*Title of post based on this song:
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