A few hours ago, I woke up from a dream where I found myself slammed against a bathtub face down. I could barely breathe in the dream and in real life. I’m not sure why that happened but it’s been a recurring theme of my general physicality after my spine surgery. After doing two physical examinations with two doctors, my health declined significantly and severely. Now anything could make me sore outside of doing nothing.
I don’t like the idea of being physically inert for weeks.
However, I have no better option. The idea of doing any sort of physical activity, from declining the stairs from the apartment-mansion to throw out trash or recycling, let alone doing anything as acrobatic as getting into my car, driving somewhere, and doing anything, was disinteresting to me before – now, my health is so poor that doing anything like that feels like a significant gamble against my health. Even if the whole ‘get out there and exercise, bud’ is the approach that one pain management doctor decided that would be his treatment option for me. I can generally empathize with that, except that I’m reaching the end of my rope in terms of pain tolerance.
How can I do anything physical when everything hurts severely, even in my sleep?
I didn’t even want to write this essay since it would be getting into this sort of negative thinking territory, but it’s important to write about how my life has been, and was the next essay I needed to write. I’ve definitely felt less interested in maintaining anything other than existing throughout each day. It’s rough being in a position where any position I find myself has a significant chance of hurting. If I sit for too long, my tailbone wipes out much of my energy. If I stand for too long, my lower back wipes out much of my energy. If I lie down in bed, my spine from shoulder-blade to tailbone wipes out much of my energy.
I’m exhausted just thinking about all of that.
Escapism is easier in this regard because then I can focus on something until the pain settles, but that pain is still there, so it’s not like my pain management technique should be finding some cool media to meander through for hours on end after every pain sensation. That’s the only thing I’ve been able to do, since no doctor I’ve seen has been terribly concerned for my well-being in this regard. Why would they? It’s easy for them to say it’s another doctor’s problem. Avoiding responsibility is something that is easy to do when it can easily be thought of as someone else’s problem. The second pain management doctor could say it was a sports medicine problem, the sports medicine doctor could say it’s a spine problem, and the retiring spine doctor made sure to express his disinterest by having originally routed me over to that second pain management doctor.
At least this new spine surgeon seems invested enough to help me out…
He seems confident to have me back online and working well before this essay’s publication. Will I? The problem with writing about health to this capacity is that it’s easy to get depressed over feeling: like, well, yeah, duh, of course I can return to go health! I trust the advice of doctors and that they care about me. Oh, how wrong I was before, and as much as I’d like to be right now, I have to be realistic. It’s possible that the treatment plans I’m given don’t work for me.
I’m not even confident that I’ll row by this essay’s publication.
If I do, it will be at such a low impact that it won’t even be like I’m exercising at all, which is good, because compared to my physicality and general health now, it will be like I put in a solid set. I wonder, though, will I be able to row by the one-year anniversary of my spine first acting up in mid-April? Will I be able to put in earnest sets without being fearful of my spine? Considering the physicality I’ve been in over the past few weeks, I am doubtful of being able to do much of anything. I’ve had so many hours, so many days, and so many plans stolen from me because of my bad spine.
I don’t think that will be cured in a few weeks or months.
I often fear, now, of getting up from a sitting position because of the pain it will inflict. I’ve stopped my 30-minute sitting restriction because of the aforementioned pain at all times. At least now – I haven’t stood up in about two or three hours – the pain is at a minimum. I can feel it in my lower back and tailbone. It’s there, but I can concentrate at least mostly on other things. I can’t think about anything too deep, but I can at least keep my concentration. I didn’t take any Oxycodone today, but in exchange, my day was completely full of the pain that started off this essay – not quite worrying about my breathing until I suddenly feel like I’m being slammed into severe pain.
That’s not really the way that the American Healthcare System should operate.
If anyone’s reading this, this has been absolutely disgusting behavior for my health to get to the point where I am today, and I hope that you can agree with that thought without me even needing to write it. It’s been a terrible crime against my life to deal with this pain for as long as I have, to have had my physicality stolen away from me for so long, and the most I can do is become the next victim of another doctor. I hate writing these essays because, truthfully, I don’t believe I’ll ever row to any degree again. My passion for physical fitness might be done.
We’ll see how it goes in a few months…
|Sources: My fitness experiences.
– This week’s weight: 216.5
– Last week’s weight: 221.0
– Weight Difference: Down a few pounds.
– Difference between writing and editing for publication: I’m still feeling that general sense where I don’t know if I’ll get better or not. It’s rough.
|Inspirations: My personal experiences.|
|Related: Past weekly column entries. Sober Living essays and Tripping On [The American Healthcare System] chapters.|
|Written On: 2020 November 21 [11:08pm to “Avoiding responsibility is something that” at 11:21pm] November 22 [Midnight to 12:11am]|
|Last Edited: 2020 November 22[First draft; final draft for the Internet.]|