Making sense

Anne Lamott, on writing ...

"We are a species that needs and wants to understand who we are. Sheep lice do not seem to share this longing, which is one reason why they write so little. But we do. We have so much we want to say and figure out.”

Saturday, June 21, 2008

Pain, pain go away ...

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.

No comments: