June 19, 2012

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  I have a week's worth of nice things to say, but I am coming here with something else.

  I injured my back this weekend. I've been having trouble with my back for a few months - it began around the middle of the past semester and seemed to be the result of spending all my time sitting at a desk. When I could no longer deny that the pain wouldn't just magically go away (which is always my first hope), I developed a routine of stretching and going to the gym, both of which helped, and when I got home I immediately began physiotherapy. Back pain is scary shit. A series of x-rays revealed that the spaces between the discs in my lower back are narrowing - for now, the best thing to do is to exercise, and continue to go to physio, and basically work to build muscle in the right places to support the weakening part of my spine. 

  I've been pretty much okay since coming home. Having more to do in a day than sit at a desk helps a lot. Physio has helped enormously. I'd started to forget that my back was an issue - and it was an issue, this past semester, in a big and often scary way. And then, this weekend, I lifted something I shouldn't have lifted and since then I have been a mess of curse words and tears and ice packs. 

  I feel, mostly, stupid. Stupid for lifting the heavy thing, and stupid for being in pain, and I know that last part makes no sense. Is that a weird reaction to pain? I'm furious, not because I feel like this is unfair, and only partly because I could have prevented it - really, I just sort of hate myself for feeling this at all, and feeling it such that I have to cancel plans, that all I can do or think about is how to make this manageable until it goes away. I'm mad that I've been legitimately taken down. 

  I hate that I can't handle it. But I also know it's an impossible thing to handle. I was discussing this with a friend today, who pointed out that back pain will bring down even the toughest of fully grown men. Everyone I've had to explain myself to has given me huge amounts of sympathy - either because they've experienced something similar, or because they know someone who has. And, truly, it's awful. I can't think of a way to describe it except possibly nauseating. It is a pain that makes me feel like I could throw up. 

  But the hardest part is not the experience itself, though that part is undeniably bad. The hardest part is admitting to it, is it being the kind of situation where I have no choice. I realize that probably sounds weird. My general approach to Things that are Bad is to push through them, and to do so without letting anyone know that Things are Bad, if I can. But I can't hide this - even if I didn't ever talk about it, it is written all over me physically. I can't do the things I normally do. I can't really do anything. And to have had to say, lately, that I can't do things, and to have had to rely on the kindness and understanding of other people, to have had to accept it without protest and because I know beyond any doubt that I can't do a damn thing without it? It's been humbling. At times, uncomfortably so. 

  The back pain will go away. I've been taking care of myself, in the physio/doctor/exercise/rest department, and it is slowly getting better... but I'm full of all sorts of weird feelings about it that I didn't know I had. To have found myself, for a while, without my usual amount of independence, has been a very revealing sort of thing. 
   

  h. 

   

   

  • 2:44 am
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