Ow! My Back! (pt. 1)

Hello, my long-lost blogees.

Yes, I know, I've been away a long time. I'd like to say that's because I've been off doing really exciting things, but, well, you know me. That's not the case. I've just been living my normal life.

And speaking of my normal life - hey! How about my back?

I've often talked about my back being "out," throwing out my back when lifting and slinging and doing hard tasks around the Poderosa, the things one has to do because only one lives at the Poderosa.

But then.... There's that other thing I've mentioned.

I don't know if you yourself have heard me mention it, but I have, many times. Between work and doing Paw Duty and working every day and living a life at a house where's there's only one gal to do all the stuff. "I'm just a mule, and one day this mule's back is gonna break."

And well, it did.

Over a week ago I found myself down in my back. And I'll be honest right here in the old blog, I have NO IDEA how it happened. I got up on a Tuesday. I got ready for work and got ready to leave, and I took Milo out for his pee and poo and got dressed and everything was as usual.

Then when it was time to go to work, my windshield was frozen over from the cold, and I had to scrape it, but then, I've scraped windshields for over 10 years, right?

I came into work, sat down, took a phone call, then went to the bathroom. And when I came back to start the rest of the day, my back was out. It hurt. I had no idea why. I was OK during the ice scraping, during the bathroom break - it was a mystery. But my back hurt, and that was it.

I endured it that entire week, babied it and tried to get it better, but to no avail. Then came the weekend. The weekend I had Paw Duty.

That was the Saturday after the initial Tuesday of my back going out. I didn't particularly want to do Paw Duty, but it was my weekend, so that was that.

There was a point, right there in the grocery with Paw, where I started to cry from the pain. I put my shirt up to my eyes to catch the tears. It was not a pretty sight. But still, there were cans and bottles to be lifted into the cart, and I did that, because I'm a dutiful daughter (mule), and that's what one does.

When we got the groceries back to Paw's house, he saw my shape and said, as he has in the past, to be honest, "Now, I'm carrying these bags into the house, you don't lift anything." And for the first time ever, I took him up on his offer.

I let him carry the bags into his house, then I went home. And I hurt. I kept thinking, "If there's just one place I could find a little peace...." and so I made that Fatal Mistake.

I went to bed.

I slept in my bed for over two hours. Which was nice, to be sure, but then I woke up and had to get out of bed.

And I couldn't.

My back had completely seized up. The muscles were gone, and all I could do, once I finally lifted myself from the bed, was to lumber around my house, screaming and crying.

Yeah. Screaming and crying. Remember that.

During all that screaming and crying, I wasn't sure what to do. I kept thinking of dialing 911, but you know, I have Milo, and I couldn't leave him in an empty house while I went off to the hospital.

So I called the parents.

I told them that if i could get in my car and drive the 2 miles to their house, I was coming, so at least Milo would have a place to stay if I had to confine myself. I threw Milo into the car, and screamed my way to their house.

And still....

It's hard to explain. In my town, the local hospital is an armpit. No one wants to go there, including myself. I tried to come up with any way possible not to end up in their ER.

I walked, I sat, I bended this way and that. I did everything I could think of doing. Three hours later, I finally decided that if I felt this way now, tomorrow and the next day couldn't be much better. I finally gave my dad the go-ahead to call 911.

And so they came.

Yep. So I screamed my way in an ambulance to the local ER, every bump and curve being a new reason for me to scream my lungs out.

I arrived at the ER and got evaluated. Yeah. I was a bit worried that I was one of the Saturday Night Crowd who wanted drugs (that's a natural around here), but they still went and looked me over, and did an X-Ray, and blood and urine tests.

Turns out I had no infections, and my X-Rays of the bones showed nothing amiss. They told me to follow up with my regular Dr, Dr Smokin' Javier, and that maybe an MRI was in order.

Yeah, OK. Total ER visit not paid by insurance, and now an MRI? I knew this routine.

They said they'd give me a shot to help the pain, one that would last for about two days. It didn't even last two hours. I was able to ambulate for a moment, then when they pronounced me ready to go, I was still unable to walk, screaming and crying (remember?) and leaning over various pieces of furniture to exist.

My dad (who had ridden in the ambulance with me) and I were kicked out of the ER. We had way no home, no one to call to get us home, but it didn't matter. We were duly released, and so we had to leave. It was 4:15 am.

The only person we knew to call was the bro-in-law's dad. He's a wonderful man who has spent his retirement taking care of lost souls. Oh, Lord, were we lost souls. He came and got us, and I professed such embarrassment that it it was, well, embarrassing.

I got two prescriptions to take home with me. One was a muscle relaxer, one was a pain pill. They gave me an extra pain pill there at the ER, and I took when I got home around 5 am. I slept a little bit, which was blissful, but let's be honest, I was wrecked and that was only a spot-relief.

But any relief was welcome as I slept a bit on Sunday, and went to work on Monday, cause that's how I roll, of course, but I was in just as much in pain.

I needed help!

So I followed up with Smokin' Dr Javier on Tuesday to see if that (non-paid, remember my health insurance) MRI was needed.

Stay tuned - what happened? Did I get better? Did I have to pay for an MRI I can't afford?

It's worth another check back, I promise!