Getting my back fixed – or at least ameliorated – is going to take hella time. I have to turn my life upside down for the next five weeks but frankly, I can’t stand it anymore. I think about my back 24/7 – if I wake up in the middle of the night, it’s usually because I’ve gotten myself into a position my back doesn’t like, and I have to be uber careful going up and down stairs, and it’s virtually impossible to run, and I can carry heavy stuff no problem but I can’t bend to pick it up, and the list goes on for a mile. I’m frankly terrified – I mean terrified – of what’s going to happen to me when I fly to France later this year. It hurts to drive a car for fifteen minutes. I remember with dread the flight to and from the Dominican. People say, Well Take Painkillers and I then have to give the drill about how all the goddamned painkillers put me in a permanent pre migraine state and the second I stopped taking them I’d get a migraine. Oh, so keep taking them, well, uh, no, because they cause other physical problems and I’m saving them for when I need to sleep. And who the fuck enjoys it if I’m whining all the time? I have to keep a really tight lid on it or I would never, ever shut up about it. And I am not the only person suffering, and my pain prevents me from paying attention to others.
It isn’t getting better, I’m in constant discomfort and frequent pain, and my quality of life completely sucks, and you know what else? It ain’t sexy. Sure, welcome to middle age, I get that part; I will never be the carefree dudette off years past. So I am going for treatment. There’s no guarantee it will work, but they’ve got a pretty good success rate and the treatment yesterday felt great.
