I’m not known for my patience, y’all.
Sunday I was released from the hospital and while it took about 10 minutes getting in and out of our small hatchback (you never realize how giant your head is til you try this with a lower back injury!), we finally got me home and husband went to pick up all the pills. After oxy at the hospital (a first and hopefully last) that knocked me flat on my arse, they prescribed cyclobenzadrine and vicodin…and laxatives to deal with side effects. Oh joy. That and a page of PT exercises to do and orders to call them and set up an appointment…
Well they don’t have any PT appointments open til after the middle of December at any of their locations.
So, I found a place near home that both understands my insurance (several tried telling me I had a $750 copay which I don’t, as it’s waived for PT) and has great reviews, so Friday I’ll be leaving the house for the first time, a week after I was carried out on a stretcher.
This is so weird, y’all. How in an instant things can so dramatically change with the body. Just the day before we were in the garden, watching hummingbirds on the pineapple sage and feeling the chill of winter’s impending arrival as I trimmed the dahlias back and Dan fed the bees sugar water as they increase their stores of honey for the cold season. A day later I was screaming in pain, worse than any back “tweak” I’d ever had in the past and contemplating insurance coverage to get me to the ER.
It’s been boring and frustrating all wrapped into one. I am pretty much doing the zombie walk, as I can’t sit for more than 15 minutes comfortably for the most part and, if I do find the perfect position, getting up from it is murderous. As is getting out of bed in general, doing a log roll to get onto my side and slowly propping myself up millimeter by millimeter, then breathing like a woman in labor (sorry, that’s the only thing I could compare it to) to get myself to standing , then leaning against the wall, precariously, until the muscle spasms stop before tottering around the house.
I can’t lean, I can’t twist, I can’t bend, I can’t squat. I can only pretty much walk slowly, and have to focus intensely on my breathing so that I am not a walking ball of tension and so my body can heal. I’ve got a pair of tongs to reach some things and the dining room chair in the bathroom to help me, um, get up.
Those who’ve had acute back strains like this will get it – it’s more than just taking it easy, because you actually can’t. You have to move, you have to switch positions, walk around, etc., so your back will heal. Bedrest is sadly not the answer, something a few months ago I would have prayed not to have but now it feels like heaven to be on my back with pillows under my knees. But it is what it is, and I’m focusing on the lessons.
It’s hard though, the emotions that roll through you when you are just so damn tired so easily from the pain, trying not to take as many pills as they say because of all the side effects (and having grown up with aspirin as the only form of painkiller, it’s never been easy for me to pop benzos and vicodin). And the emotions are all over the map, which can stimulate the pain receptors into thinking things are worse than they are, so maintaining calm and meditating and breathing are essential.
I just keep thinking, damn, I thought after 5 crap IVFs and the miscarriage that I’d paid my dues in this shit, but nope. Hell with 2016.
Speaking of infertility land, because my period is nowhere to be found, the doc prescribed me for 10 days of Provera to hopefully stimulate my cycle and get my period, so we can do the biopsy and don’t miss the February transfer. A full month of the pill would have been too long it turns out, so I’m glad I called.
My husband and I joked that it’s too bad I’m not doing the IM injections right now, as the back pain would mask the other side effects…
I’m grateful though, for little things. I’m grateful for being able to work from home and grateful for my husband who has stepped up to the plate and grateful that I’m seeing improvement, no matter how incremental it is (and I do mean incremental…like millimeters rather than yards).
Focus on the breath, it’s all we have.