[Rowing Machine] 2021: Week 13 {215.5} “Grocery Store Stroll”

Tomorrow, I will do my first grocery store stroll in a month, to pick up some medication that might help me feel better, or at least, help me not feel so terrible all the time. That’s the theory, anyways. The last few times I’ve gone, I’ve used a shopping cart like a walker, and it’s been a pain. I haven’t gone out much lately, so it’s hard to say how it’ll go. Probably not great.

Each week I write one of these essays, I feel less confident about rowing again.

I have a restorative function meeting in about one month, but if today was anything to prove for how my health is going, it’s not going well. I am in significant pain constantly, and what has worked for me before no longer works as well. I might be lucky in sitting where I sit, but if I move wrong, if I sit wrong, or if I try to stand from my sitting position and my body doesn’t quite like it, then all bets are off toward having a pleasant health time. It’s not like this is a vacation by any means. I’m constantly uncomfortable, but now I can barely even make it through a day without needing to rest once, if not multiple times, and I end up sleeping for multiple hours throughout the day.

Sleep can be good, but it’s not helping me feel better.

I know what hurts more than staying in my apartment, however, is going out for short drives or long walks across supermarkets to pick up medication. Each week that my health regresses, I feel less and less confident that I’ll ever be able to row again, let alone do much of anything. I can still sit here and walk around my apartment, but for how long? On days like today, it’s rough for me to even get out of bed. I feared that it would be like this and it’s beginning to get worse. I try to tell doctors and medical professionals, because writing this out would seem to obviously be a problem that can be fixed, but I am left often with not much more than general apathy, if I can even get the time to tell anyone these problems.

I don’t mind isolation, but this feels worse than that.

If I were physically isolated, that’d be fine, but I also have to deal with physical disability, which limits my ability to do much of anything, from bathing to cooking my own meals. I wasn’t able to cook anything for myself until late into the evening because I didn’t have the strength to cook anything this morning, so I wasn’t able to eat. It’s somewhat scary to think about that, and to think about how this might continue – and worsen – by this essay’s publication. But who knows? Maybe tomorrow medicine will do something different? Maybe that restorative function place will help? I’ve been to so many different doctors, and tried so many different treatment options, but have been left high and dry without any of the assistance I could use to make a recovery.

I had to get my crutches out of the trash.

My pain management doctor wrote me a one-month prescription for a wheelchair, but he doesn’t have the time to let me ask any questions about my health, so why would he care about whether I used the wheelchair or crutches? He’s in such a rush to get me out of his office as quickly as possible that he doesn’t care about these sorts of details like his patients’s health. Why would he? He’s got to see the next patient and the next. He barely remembers me and doesn’t remember what he’s done for treatment options when he does see me, so it’s not like we’ve been able to establish any rapport. For him, I’m just a number that he gets from the insurance company.

I haven’t been excited about scheduling a follow-up appointment.

My energy is so drained that life is a constant drag. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to exercise again, and if so, when that will be. I have two rowing machines. I had dreams, even months ago, of still having a nice home gym for them, but now, I don’t know if that’s something I can even do. I can barely even lift myself out of bed. How can I recreationally lift weights, row, or otherwise exercise? I don’t mean to sound depressive but it feels like a lost cause for me with how many months I’ve been struggling to get anyone to help me out within the medical profession. They don’t care about me, as a whole, and the number of doctors I’ve been thrown around to over the months is proof of that. I would be quickly corrected and told I’m wrong by people that haven’t experienced all that I have – they would try to defend, and perhaps justly so, these doctors and their actions.

I don’t believe doctors are as worshippable as they might appear.

They might be if they took more pity on their patients. If they tried to help their patients instead of doing the best they could to do as little as they could. The doctor from a few months ago that saw me knowing full well that he didn’t have any of my charts is an example of the norm of doctors. If I were a doctor treating someone and I didn’t have any information on them at all, would I [1] try to get that information or [2] say fuck it and get that insurance money? He went with 2. There are many examples I could give, but it turns out, other people I’ve talked to have had similar experiences. Not just within America, but other healthcare systems as well.

Most doctors don’t seem to care if I can get groceries at supermarkets…

Endtable
Quotes: None.
Sources: My fitness experiences.
This week’s weight: 215.5
Last week’s weight: 211.0
Weight Difference: Looks like I had a better meal or two compared to last week.
Difference between writing and editing for publication: I have since received two spine injections that helped significantly with my health. I forget that I’ve been severely disabled for months, so I try to do too much ambitious movement, and it ends up not working out too well, but, I’m making progress.
Inspirations: Writing about my life.
Related: Past weekly column entries.
Pictures: Template
Written On: 2021 February 17 [10:51pm to 11:10pm]
Last Edited: 2021 February 17 [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.