Remember that very first post I ever wrote in this blog about how my body is essentially broken and regularly requires doctor visits and MRIs? (No? Oh, you should totally spend the next few hours reading all my posts from then till now.) Well, kids, I’m sorry to say the back/hip pain is back, and it is back with a vengeance.
I’ll admit that I eventually stopped going to physical therapy because I was working part-time at BYU and part-time as an accompanist and was also in “Hello, Dolly!” and even when I did have time to go, it was unlikely that I’d haul myself out of bed at 6:00 in the morning for it (especially since I was feeling so much better at that point). So I said, “I’ll be back, I promise,” and walked out the door and then kind of didn’t go back. Not because I didn’t think it wasn’t working or anything — I just stopped. And then we went through a couple periods of no having health insurance. And, you know, life.
And for awhile, I was able to cope with everything pretty well. I remember laying in bed, early on in the crisis, crying because I could not bear the idea of living in pain like that for the next 50-60 years, but I got used to it and grew weary of worrying about what was going on in my body, if the labrum was tearing yet again, if I had pinched my SI joint even further. And living the way I was for 50-60 suddenly didn’t sound all that bad. It was definitely doable. And I was hiking and biking and doing outdoor things with Husband I’d completely avoided the summer prior because I was rendered essentially immovable. And it was fun! And I loved it! And I started to think I was going to live a normal life after all.
Okay, scratch that. My brain will never let me live a normal life. I am already planning a makeup night in mid-January because I’m an incessant pre-planner, while singing the song
of my people I’m doing for the vocal competition tomorrow over and over and over again in my head and biting my lips because that’s a new OCD thing I do (???). BUT, mental instability aside, I was physically ready to conquer as much world as I was interested in.
But then things started to hurt again. And Husband noticed one side of my hips remarkably higher than the other. And sleeping became a thing only healthy people did because there’s no comfortable position I can get in to actually fall and stay asleep. And sitting? Well, let’s just say I’m glad I don’t do it in a non-ergonomic desk chair 5 hours a day any longer.
Do I feel discouraged about this? Well, yeah, naturally. It’s not like I thought I was invincible, but I was holding out this modicum of hope that things would stay as benign as they’d been so I could be reminded that I’m not infallible but also so I didn’t want to cry all the time. All this has led to me eating a lot of chips. Also candy. So, I suppose, the only thing I can do is head back to my physiatrist and get another prescription for physical therapy (which will inevitably be for something ridiculous like four weeks) and go to the office twice a week for three or four months and try to beat this thing once and for all.
And if all else fails, I’ma get a cortisone shot rammed in my back so everything goes numb. Or … however it’s supposed to go. Because we’re there, guys.