50 Days, One Year Later

A year ago today, I called up the fine surgeons at the hospital and told them No, Thank you. It was the right decision. Once I got off all the pain meds, I felt better. Much better. Good enough to get back to a normal life. Like walking. Like just being able to stand up.

There's no doubt in my mind that I still have a herniated disc and that it's a matter of when, not if, the pain will return. It reminds me every once in a while that it's still there - a mercifully gentle hello from my backside. Stiffness in the morning some days. An electric current that runs down the back of my leg from time to time. I wonder how old I'll be when it decides to get my attention for good. Whether I'll have insurance. Whether I'll have help. Whether pain management has improved any or if back surgery will be done as routinely removing a wart.

In the meantime, all I can do is do the best I can. And, to be grateful while I'm at it. To that end, I made a resolution to walk more. I started before the first of the year, and now I've walked 50 days in a row. Every day. There have been a couple days I had to walk inside - at a mall - but mostly I walk outside regardless of weather. I also try to walk during daylight hours but that isn't always possible. After one particularly busy day, it got to be eleven at night before I could get my walk in. I donned a reflective vest, grabbed a flashlight and went walking.

I don't go far. About a mile. But I go. Every day.

And I'm pretty happy about it.

Holidays

I didn't spend them on the floor this year so that's good. I get an occasional reminder - a not so gentle but generally brief jab of not exactly pain - that lets me know my fattened disc is still back there. It doesn't inhibit much except touching my toes and visiting the chiropractor. I don't know that either of those things would do any harm. I'm just not anxious to find out.

Otherwise, good. Happy to be upright, generally pain free, and walking. Outdoors.

Indulgences

Someone asked me today how my back was doing. It's a nice thing when someone does that but lately that question almost takes me by surprise. That's so yesterday. I suppose the greater the tragedy the longer it takes to move on from it which is to say that while it seemed tragic at the time, my back pain was small on the greater scheme of things. Thing is, I hardly think about it anymore and it's almost like the pain I felt was in a dream, a different place or time. (On the other hand, don't think I take it for granted. It was serious to me.)

I was still thinking about this later in the day when it occurred to me that there were only two things that were not to be missed just because I was confined to living in bed. This is ridiculous, I know, but it's absolutely true that no matter my condition I did not miss a single spa appointment. Specifically, my facials and my hair colorings. Two each.

This is a true testimony of my vanity, without a doubt. It took monumental effort and some coordination to pull off those visits and I never thought to cancel them. Did I go to work? Heck, no. I couldn't make it to the kitchen without needing to lie down. Was I expecting company? Again, the answer is no.

Here's the punchline. I did all that to maintain my "natural look." Embarrassing but true.

So, here's a bold-faced plug for the ladies I apparently cannot do without, ladies I would overcome, apparently, any obstacle to see. For facials and skincare I see C.J. at Park Lane Wellness Center and for hair I see Lynda Nuce-Warner at the 85th Street Salon. I have been seeing them both for close to fifteen years, if I had to take a guess. More than ten, anyway.

If I was at an awards ceremony or I walked around with production credits trailing behind me, these two names would clearly be on the list somewhere. You ladies make me look and feel great.

What A Difference Five Months Make

I was here in November, eating Vicodin and happy about it. I was in town (Palm Desert, that is) for a wedding and I had been in so much pain I wasn't sure I was going to be able to fly. Well, sit is more accurate since I, myself, cannot fly.

At the time, sitting was becoming a challenging occupation the way that touching one's toes becomes challenging for the elderly. That may seem exaggerated but elderly was what I was feeling, even as I edge towards that reality, as my pain kept me from doing things one normally does.

It wasn't long before not being able to sit was to develop into not being able to stand, and a reality I had not previously known. That of pain on a level I thought was made only of legend, the storytelling of people who were a little off, of seekers of attention. Little wonder those stories are not believed. They are unbelievable. I didn't believe it could be true, either, until I lived it. And, thank God, it was only for a short while.

But the story I tell today is one of remission. I am back in Palm Desert after an odyssey that bridges much more than distance. And, leaving out the details of what happened between then and now, I am happy to say that I am walking, biking, and swimming - all without pain. All without drugs.

I am here again, in April this time, not to see a wedding, not in pain, not taking drugs. And happy about it.

Strut

I saw a massage therapist on Sunday who is more into whole body therapy than massage. What I mean is, he is more of a diagnostician than a relaxing kind of fellow. In fact, his therapy is anything but relaxing.

The good news is, it didn't hurt (much). The last massage (in October) just about killed me! (Well, not really but it hurt a lot more than it helped.)

He gave me homework. I need to walk as if my leg muscles start just under my rib cage rather than at my hips. To effect this walk, I have to lean back so as to engage my stomach muscles and take a long stride. He said I should look snooty if I'm doing it right.

The reason he has me doing this is to acquaint me with some new muscles. Some of the leg muscles do indeed attach themselves at a point higher than the hip. Strengthening these muscles (and stretching others) will help me hold my body (specifically, my pelvis) in better alignment with my spine.

And there you go. Good as new.

I've been strutting around the neighborhood (not making any new friends) for the last couple of days. I can feel these muscles at work. Time will tell if this provides any lasting corrective or rehabilitative response in my body. It's worth a try, I figure.

Ides of March

... or I do March. Not, march, exactly. That would just look weird. But I've been walking and today I went eight blocks and enjoyed every step.

I was walking six blocks, now eight. A month ago I was walking zero so I'm feeling pretty good about eight.

I used to increase my mileage by actual miles. But now I'm taking it easy. Eight is good. And, I dare say, I can probably walk faster than the 90-year-old guy down the street. Not that it matters to me. I'm just glad to see him out walking too.

March Madness

I cancelled the March epidural. I continue to feel pretty good. Not even Advil that last couple days.