On Friday, June 13, at approximately 2:15 p.m., I dropped the soap while showering. Twisted in a weird way to retrieve it. I haven't been the same since. (Hold the prison rape jokes, please.)
For eight days now, eight days I say, pain has been my constant companion.
There are two positions that don't bring me pain, but getting into -- and then out of -- those two positions causes pain. Serious pain. The kind of pain that makes me screw up my face and mutter "shitshitshit" in rapid succession.
On the 1 - 10 pain scale, my lower back pain rates a clear 7. Maybe an 8. (Do know that, for me, a 10 would have to be how I'd feel if, say, some demented murderer chopped off one of my limbs with a chainsaw.)
Of course I went to the doctor. My 16 year old drove me and then proceeded to carry my purse even though she clearly did not want to into the clinic. I had to take itty-bitty-bird steps into the place. Obviously I was having some pain. The woman I sat down next to waited for me to get settled (Read: in the chair without crying) and then said, chomping her gum, "Ah, it's your sciatic nerve, huh?" We chit-chatted for some time and then my name was called. "Tell them I'm coming, and to have some patience," I told my daugher.
Diagnosis: sacro ileitis.
Prognosis: I'd get over it.
Prescriptions: Muscle relaxant, anti-inflammatory, painkiller.
I've played by all the rules (except the one where the doctor said to do floor exercises). Still I hurt. The pain is now throughout my hips and upper thighs. I suppose by this time tomorrow it'll be around my knees. Monday, through the calves. Tuesday, by then, well, maybe the pain will go to my toes and exit altogether.
A girl can hope.
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