Body Says “Stop, Get Help”
I was chatting with my friend Glinda while standing at the kitchen counter drinking my morning coffee when I yawned, stretched, and then suddenly got shot through with agonizing pain that doubled me over, whole body sweating, feeling I might puke, piss, and have diarrhea all at the same time, shaking, panting not breathing, howling, crying, with a sharp, specific, knifelike make-me-want-to-die feeling in my lower left back.
“I’m okay! I’m okay!” I yelled at the dropped phone and at Ax who’d taken a break from his chocolate chip pancakes and extreme sports show to see what was up.
“I’m okay! Don’t be scared!” I told Ax as I gripped the kitchen counter, back spasming, unable to stand or sit, just paralyzed with pain. Holding my breath, which I knew was unhelpful.
“I’m not scared,” he said, and he put his hand very gently on my back. I managed to baby step to the bedroom and stood facing my bed. Ax followed me.
Somehow I had my phone. I called my husband, Mike, who knows a lot about a lot, plus can often be a calming influence, and put him on speakerphone.
“Hi baby!” he said.
“I can’t move! I need help! I can’t move!” I said, teary, somewhat unraveled.
“What’s going on?” he said.
I told him, through yowls and moans, and he and I stayed on the phone for a while with him trying to talk me into a comfortable position and me continuing to have gut-wrenching pain and spasms that attempts at deep breathing and meditative methods did not touch.
I was in agony and could not get out of it. I couldn’t get to a lying down position, I couldn’t get to a standing position. I was stuck, half-up, half-down, in pain.
I needed help. I was crying into the phone. I sent Ax to the neighbors’ house to get a ride to school, and he went.
I called for help, my mom. And she took me to the ER where there were tests, but no relief, until a nurse observed that I was in extreme pain and got me some muscle relaxant. Then I fell asleep. When I woke up the Doc told me that I was fine. I didn’t feel fine. But I felt hopeful that I would recover.
Three days later I’m still recovering. I missed back to school night, I’ve missed three days of playing with my child and my friends, three days of focusing on more than just healing, and I hurt, even on the meds they gave me.
Yesterday I went to see the physical therapist my family suggested I see about my back last week, before this incident. He gave me some strategies to get me through this acute phase.
As long as I keep moving, slowly, and don’t sit, and don’t do stuff that hurts, I’m gonna be okay. And I’m grateful to have an amazing support system to call on. I’m getting better, not as quickly as I’d like but I’m taking care of this body and I’m getting help I need. I’m gonna keep going.
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