I forget what exactly I was thinking when I designed this logo for this category of essays I’ve been calling “Rowing Machine” for years. I was probably still optimistic about my health. I designed this logo in late October 2020, and was thinking I was on the mend after my surgery, not yet letting the pain medications wear off to reveal more pain than before my surgery. Over one year later, I feel rebranding is OK…
An alternate title for this might be “Verbally Cartoonish Fisticuffs,” but I’d rather focus on the positive aspects of where I’m headed rather than the negative. I detailed everything at length in a recording as I worked on more painting, so I’ve already processed my emotions thoroughly, which has let me figure out my long-term plan, which is switching my primary care physician/PCP to get care elsewhere. The good of learning moderation, then, is self-moderation.
I took my offline rants, by way of recording as I drew, and brought the format to a broadcast. The resulting experiment wasn’t successful in terms of bringing in a large audience, but it was successful for a better reason: I was able to meander through some of the problems I’ve been mulling over concerning an upcoming doctor’s appointment, concerns about working, and blasted all the anxiety away through addressing three possible outcomes coming up.
An interesting thing flipped in my brain the moment I went from thinking broadcasting was something that I did as a side project to being something more fulfilling: I realized the same physicality navigation that I do whenever I write. I much prefer writing over broadcasting, if only because I can edit my typos, delete words I dislike to put in words I like, but broadcasting live means completing the objective regardless of current health.
I have a general problem against wasting time and energy needlessly. My experiences throughout the American Healthcare System journey I’ve been on have been filled with wasting time and energy. Today, I went to see my new pain management doctor. The doctor didn’t have much to advise me on because my primary care physician/PCP didn’t send over all the records. This happened once last year with another referral. So, naturally, I complained about patient care.
I did everything I could to get read to go out today. I went to bed early, I wound my mind down, and when I was laying down to go to bed, my body panicked. Each time I experience new levels of chronic pain, I wonder: How is this even possible? The human body is not meant to endure this level of pain so flippantly and with such little regard for the patient’s long-term care…
Ever since my spine flare-up at the grocery store, my energy levels have been tanking overall. It makes sense. I pushed myself to get home after having maybe not a life-threatening amount of pain, but enough to impede my healthcare recovery. I didn’t even do all that much. I walked around about as many aisles, maybe a few more but nothing substantially more, than I have over the past months, so it’s frustrating, but… acceptable.
2021 September 26 1:43pm – As part of my commitment to self-betterment, through finding ways in which I have faulted, I will be trying a new experiment. For these rowing essays, particularly when I haven’t been able to row, I’ve used them as maybe one-off rant spots for writing about my health. I’ve let my weight get the better of me over the past two weeks, so instead, I’ll use this space to write about my fitness daily-ish.
Late into August 2021, I had my second spine injection since experiencing disabling, chronic pain in April 2020. My first injection, covered mostly by insurance, helped increase mobility and decrease pain; temporarily. I’ve written plenty about injections so I don’t feel like digging up my specific experiences, but generally, this second injection of the sacroiliac joint helped – but not as much as the doctor wanted. So we went with another injection – and the results were good enough…
I’m writing this sentence at 10:55am in the hospital where I took some inspiration to write my first novel. That inspiration was more window dressing around the many sets I’ve found myself in. I’m here for imaging related to something tangentially wrong with my spine. I’m in a waiting room with red seats, beige backs, and lightly-lacquered wood armrests, wrapped up and clearly labeled to prevent social distance from being broken. I’m exhausted from crutching.