In Blackest Night – (F@&#ed my) Back Once Again it’s the Renegade Master
As a youngster, there were very few things that would hold me back. Aside from a lack of confidence and self esteem, my body would allow me to do whatever I wanted. Now, thirty-three years in, I find myself let down by my physical ability yet again thanks to my back.
I’ve suffered from sciatica on and off for about seven years now. Two years ago, I was diagnosed with a prolapsed disc – a fancy way of saying a slipped disc – but, aside from the odd day or two, my back problems were fairly trivial and I could manage with the pain/physical limitations. A weekend off work sounds good, huh? It did, for me, until earlier this afternoon where I lost my balance and twisted while doing some cleaning around the house. The popping sensation and a sound, which I cannot determine if it was audible or what my mind imagined as the pain hit me, basically took me out.
Now, having suffered for years with my back, I know that the key to recovery is staying active. That’s not really possible right now. I’ve spent most of the day laid up on the sofa or, for about half an hour, soaking in a super hot bath in the hope to ease the pain, if even slightly. I have Naproxen on repeat prescription – I’m fully stocked up on those – after being taken off Ibuprofen due to the negative effects it can have on my stomach (after I was diagnosed with stress-related IBS). I also take Cocodamol when I feel I need them and I’m down to my last two. It’s gonna be a fun weekend!
The last time I was bad like this it took a few weeks for me to get back to normal. My mobility, or lack thereof, is bad enough but then my inability to do such basic things frustrates me to the point where I become pretty vile in temperament. I can’t afford to take time off work and so, as always, the natural worry and stress begins which are key contributors when it comes to general back problems.
The pain is gone for the time being as I’m lying on the sofa, my knees up to prop my laptop up so I can type comfortably but, as soon as I move to reach my drink or even turn slightly when I need to shift position or even put my legs out straight, the pain will hit me in a burst like Jack Nicholson‘s Jack Torrence maniacally smashing the bathroom door in to bash Wendy’s skull in.
I can’t think of anything more frustrating than a debilitating ailment rendering you unable to carry out the most trivial tasks that we typically take for granted. I, again, find myself wondering how the fuck I am going to turn out in my old age if this is how my body is now. Pretty depressing, huh?
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