Over the past day, I’ve come to terms with the notion that my two-week respite from pain has ended, and my body has rezombified. It’s rough dealing with that idea. At least before, it was a subtle decline over months. This was like being knocked down suddenly over the course of one day. I even still feel like I can go buy groceries or fast food, but, I think that would be unwise to do.
I told this to friend-of-the-website/stream, Eddie:
“I think in a few days as I get used to my former zombified feeling of living, then I’ll be more positive and feeling good overall, but yeah, for now it does feel like it’s a minor setback that’s knocking me down.” If there’s anything positive about my experiences now compared to a year ago, it’s that now I have many people I can reach out to and talk about my experiences with, and, I genuinely feel like I’m not weighing them down with it. They empathize, sure, but it’s different here online compared to talking with family, friends, or colleagues about my health problems. Online, it’s all voluntary and opt-in. I have a Discord channel where I can talk about my health at length where people have given me good suggestions, ideas, and feedback. They don’t have to read it. They read it because they care.
This past year, through COVID, has taught us all who really cares.
Throughout my life, I haven’t had close friends, and I’ve never understood the practicality for small talk, so social and physical isolation doesn’t bother me at all. I would say, even, that I am the perfect candidate for having had this degree of health problems over the past year because of my independence from most interactions. Sure, social interactions are nice, but I’ve had to drag myself up and through plenty of difficult interactions over the years, both before my spine health problems and throughout my life, so this is nothing new. It’s just the same shit but with different variables.
If not X=spine, then Y=school, or Z=work.
It feels good to finally have a crew of people that I can talk to about things, whether it’s my spine health or other topics. I’ve learned much about myself and others through these interactions. Dare I say I’ve become a more well-rounded person through these interactions. When the going gets rough, that’s when you know who’s really a supporter. Everyone is able to support you when you’re giving them value, but what happens when you can’t? I had to formally announce that I can’t livestream to people until my health gets sorted out. I can’t give them bits of myself until I, myself, am given the gift of health once again. Those who unfollow or no longer check out my livestreams/writings, well, they would have done it at some point along the way so there’s no point in worrying about them.
The people that check-in, care, and try to help – those are the good people.
They aren’t after anything. They’re giving their time to me to check in on me, to give me positive thoughts or methods to try to feel better, and they’re not doing it out of a sort of forced trade where they give me something in exchange for a favor later on. They could give to me without ever receiving anything of “value” from me and they’d probably be OK with it. As my body rezombifies – a daylong headache has followed me except to my dreams, my body has weakened significantly compared to two days ago, and I don’t feel confident this will “just go away” – I have to get used to this body style again.
I didn’t think I’d have these body aches anymore.
Maybe I bought into the medication’s effectiveness and the doctor’s confidence? Maybe I was lying to myself in terms of how well I was actually doing? Once I lie to myself, I’m done, because then I’ll believe those lies, then I’ll tell those lies to others. If, instead, I tell the truth as best I can to as many people as I can, then we can work on solutions based on that. All my headache remedies from the start of this essay series didn’t work for me today. I even ate enough ice cream to evoke an ice cream headache. This didn’t work.
I get waves of clear thoughts between poundings of this headache.
It’s tiring and I’ve felt exhausted today. I messaged my doctor’s office with the details as accurately as I could convey them, succinctly written through writing them at length in my health channel,
– a few minutes passed there –
The headache from behind my right eye stung particularly fierce through my eye. I feel sad, overall, because I now know that my life will never be completely pain-free. Regardless of what I do, my body will always negatively react to doing something as innocent as what put me on this path of rezombification. I stood in my kitchen. I didn’t carry any heavy weight. I didn’t reach for anything. I just stood there and the muscles in my back screamed at me with a force greater than anything I had experienced before. I did nothing wrong. I wasn’t abusing my body. My body just went haywire and this will probably happen to me repeatedly throughout my entire life.
The most I can do is probably learn stupid coping strategies.
I mean stupid because it’s reactive rather than proactive. Sure, learning the mental resilience to handle a punch to the gut is useful, but what’s more useful is learning to proactively avoid the punch in the first place. It’s rough because I thought I was doing everything I could to prevent the punch to my gut but it turns out that even just by doing something as innocent as standing, I am the target for intense, life-altering pain.
Will the doctor have any useful advice or treatment option this time?
|Sources: My personal experiences.|
|Inspirations: Talking about my life.|
|Related: Sober Living essays and Tripping On [The American Healthcare System] chapters.|
|Written On: 2021 April 13 [10:44pm to 11:08pm]|
|Last Edited: 2021 April 13 [First draft; final draft for the Internet.]|