[Rowing Machine] 2020: Week 33 {205.0} “Spoiled, Pain-Free Living?”

Part of me feels spoiled for thinking about how unfortunate it is that when I wash my hands and try to move my legs at a certain angle, it doesn’t feel right, because I swung too far. I am too impatient with myself. Throughout this process, I’ve tried to develop the patience of understanding that, yes, my sides hurt, sometimes within reason and sometimes unreasonably. Am I spoiled for wanting to have a pain-free day?

I don’t want to shelter away in a seclusive lifestyle.

I want to be able to reorganize some possessions or go disc golfing. Currently, even the notion of going out for a drive involves careful consideration for my overall energy levels, because while I can logistically go, if I feel as tired in the car as I did when I wrote “logistically,” where I sat with my eyes closed, my head tilted down, my body fatigued, when I just woke up from about eight hours of rest a few hours ago, fully-caffeinated, but still in a good amount of pain just from whatever’s going wrong with my back, then I don’t have the energy to do much of anything, if I don’t even have the energy to write essays or go through a day without feeling exhausted.

I imagine there’s something major going wrong.

I don’t know what, but considering that I took this Hydrocodone that was hyped as this highly-addictive, highly-sedative medication and, sure, it took some of the edge off – but that’s just it. In my mind, it was not as effective as alcohol because at least through that state of inebriation, I would not feel pain as I did then. My pains from seven-plus years ago weren’t as great as they are now, though, so who knows, maybe my current pains would pierce through as they have.

I just feel disappointed that everything I’ve tried has failed.

The only measure that’s seemed to come the closest is escapism, where letting my mind escape for over 30 minutes on something will result in either my body recalibrating itself or my mind falling asleep. Either way, in these sorts of painful sensations I find myself in frequently, where I lose the appetite for life’s adventures… that’s a depressing sentence. Let’s just let that settle in for another sentence or two.

I’ve wondered how much my chair and posture have had to do with this situation.

When you’re in a situation like this, where all you have is time to sort through suffering, you think about the situation from every perspective. Everything I know to try I have done. If there is something that can be done, I am ignorant to it. I am not a smart individual so this isn’t to say that I have tried hundreds of thousands of things. I have tried to sit as comfortably as I can based on what I know of good posture.\

I can’t see how my posture looks now.

I’ll be going to my final physical therapy session in about one hour, so I can get checks in terms of if anything is particularly outrageous, otherwise, after that point, I am probably going to be on my own until the pain specialist returns my inquiries. I feel so tired of all this, as I’m sure readers are tired of reading over these same sentences I’ve probably written a few times already, but this is the only way I know to really process what’s going on, and to help me focus on what I need to do next.

I suppose the best course of action is to wait for them to reach out today.

If they don’t, then I can send another message and ask for assistance, say that physical therapy has ended with any sort of concluding thoughts they provided and state that their purported miracle cure Hydrocodone hasn’t done much to help my situation. Now, I would like to get back into rowing. That is my intention. I have no ulterior motives for picking up some kind of nasty addiction. I want to clean up my apartment-mansion. I want the energy to be able to move somewhere cheaper, to do sporting activities, and do whatever I want.

Right now, I barely have the energy to sit upright for more than two hours.

I barely have the energy to stand for more than ten minutes, and the more I do for physical exercise, it seems, the longer it takes before I can recover. I walked around outside yesterday for a few minutes, but when I returned, my sides were hurting to the point where I was miserable until I went to bed. I didn’t write about that, obviously, because I would have been whiny even more than I am now. I didn’t even walk much more than ten minutes. In this physicality, I can’t do much at the grocery store. When I bought and wrapped those bricks, I was wiped for days after, whereas months ago, that would have been easy for me.

I should be more patient with myself.

I’m not mad at myself for my lack of abilities. I’m mad at the situation I’m in. I’m mad that it’s taking this long to get back into good health, and I’m worried that I may never be able to row to my, admittedly average, previous levels. I think back to last year where I parked in one part of Seattle and walked across town to another part of Seattle. I could not do that now. Will I be able to do that again? Even without current events, I cannot go out for a drive, park somewhere, go walk for a few minutes, reliably return to my car, and drive home without feeling the level of fatigue where I exist now. I am constantly tired and not tired. I am constantly ready for bed and unable to sleep. Whenever I lay down to sleep, I’m in pain.

Whenever I am awake, I want to go to sleep.

Endtable
Quotes: None.
Sources: My fitness experiences.
This week’s weight: 205.0
Last week’s weight: 202.0
Difference: Three pounds is good. That means that my body hasn’t been shutting down like it has over the past few weeks. I’m still in overwhelming pain, but that is my life for the next few [units of time]. I only slept for 2 hours before my spine woke me up.
Inspirations: Thinking about how I’m feeling.
Related: Past weekly column entries. Sober Living essays and Tripping On [The American Healthcare System] chapters.
Picture: Template
Written On: 2020 June 22 [5:57am to 6:25am]
Last Edited: 2020 June 22 [First draft; final draft for the Internet.]
My big goal is writing. My most important goal is writing "The Story." All other goals should work toward that central goal. My proudest moment is the most recent time I overcame some fear, which should have been today. I'm a better zombie than I was yesterday. I'm not better than you and you're not better than me. Let's strive to be better every day.