Help, I Sat Down and I Can't Get Up

I pulled my back, I mean really pulled it, while helping clean my grandmother’s house last Friday. We were working hard to get things sorted and get it cleaned before the memorial on Saturday, and somewhere in frenzy of weeding, tossing, dusting, wiping and hauling, I wrenched my back the wrong way.

Then, on Saturday I did a lot of sitting – in cars, on floors, plastic chairs, lumpy ottomans, more cars. And on Sunday I could not get up. Literally, back was not working, so neither were the legs.

Laughing really hurts when you have a knot the size of a softball in the long muscles of your back. I mean really hurts – stabbing pain from my mid back down to my right ankle. But it was so ridiculous, my husband trying to haul my petrified, mummy self off the bed, I couldn't stop laughing between gasps, curses, and yelps.

He finally had to leave so that I could gradually roll my groaning self to the edge of the bed and off the side. Luckily our bed is high, so I landed more or less on my feet and hobbled my way downstairs. I could not bend more than an inch forward and could not straighten up all the way. It was sad, and embarrassing and lame.

Time is catching up with me. I treat my body with a sort of benign neglect, so it’s reminding me that I have to stop and take the time to take care of myself; that an Advil and a couple hours of sleep are not enough to bounce back anymore. I don’t feel that old most of the time, but the years and working mom abuse is creeping up on me and twisting my back into a monkey’s fist of knots.

Monday came and I hobbled my way to work for more sitting. Before lunch I ordered a giant balance ball to sit on from Target (used the in-store pickup thing for the first time, which was nice, plus I had an extra 5% discount card to use - score). I set an alarm on my phone to remind me to unbend myself and stretch throughout the day before I froze in place and someone had to come cart me away.

This week I've hobbled my way through presentations, shifted uncomfortably through meetings, and discovered that when sitting on a large ball to work I compulsively bounce. I’m waiting for the damn thing to pop and dump me on the ground, where I will have to call for help because once down I cannot get back up off the floor.

I don’t really realize how much I just count on being in good health and feeling well to get everything done that needs doing in a day. I have even more admiration for people who are struggling with serious illness or disability now because mundane life activities are so much harder than they usually are. At least I know this is temporary and if I keep stretching and moving this will resolve in a week or so, I can't imagine how tough it must be to struggle with a serious health issue and all of the stress of parenting, working and just life in general. This perspective does not make me any more cheerful about my current predicament - I'm pissy. 

It does not help that work is insane right now and I’m rushing to meet deadlines while short two employees; that even if I were operating on all thrusters this would be a challenging time. The distraction of constant discomfort and sharp stabs of pain whenever I forget and twist or bend the wrong way is NOT HELPING. And I really think I might run screaming..if I could run.

The three puffettes have been trying to help – well, two of them have, Badger mostly gives me sweet hugs and then licks me just to hear me yell in surprise and ick.

I’m really frustrated at my inability to go at my usual pace and just get everything done. Dad-e-Lion is trying to pick up some of the slack, but he’s still adjusting to the whole “being at home” thing and is not so good with all the logistics just yet.

So, I’m bouncing on the ball, and I’m stretching and making time to do some damn yoga (I like yoga, but I have so much to get done right now, and still clocking 5.5 hours of sleep a night, that I find myself telling the excessively calm lady on the yoga DVD to kiss my ass when she tells me to quiet my mind, focus on my breathing and relax – I mean really, who has time for this shit?). I’m taking care of myself so that I can get back in fighting form, stop groaning my way into the car and upsetting Quokka (seriously, she asked me to stop yelping when I tried to lift my legs into the car because it freaks her out), and just GO again.

I know I should be all philosophical about this injury reminding me what’s important - making time to take care of myself, and slowing down…but, no. Mostly I feel grouchy, kind of stupid, and really irritated because I don’t have the time or patience to deal with moving carefully, remembering not to bend, and stopping to stretch ten times a day.

Right now, as I sit here bouncing a bit on the big ball I got for home, I want to curl up like a shrimp on the floor – the right side of my back is singing with pain from the too-tight muscles, my right hip feels like it might disintegrate under the pressure and my right calf wants to rip in two. It fucking hurts – but, amazingly, feels better than it did earlier in the week.

(Randomly, Badger just helpfully slapped me silly because she was rescuing me from an ant crawling on my arm, and now she’s sticking stickers on the poor dog – I do not have the energy or pain tolerance left to make her stop so I’m apologizing to the really sad dog trying to hide behind me instead.)

I hate this, and I think I need another glass of wine. The Advil on Sunday didn't do much, so I've traded it in for Riesling. Whether or not it makes my muscles feel better is beside the point, it makes ME feel better so I’m doing it.

I got a sticker too...and then she stuck four more on me because the dog finally fled the room. Notice the mess in the background - not picking it up right now.