Fourteen days ago, we had been about to go on a ride. We changed and hopped on our bikes, and then I realized that we weren't going anywhere because I had a flat tire. So it was that fifteen days ago, I lifted the bike into the back of our vehicle to take it to the bike shop to get them to fix the thing. I got the bike into the car fine, but when I was lifting it out to wheel it into the shop, I got into a very awkward position, and my back muscles suddenly and alarmingly spasmed.
Once upon a time, I used to have this sort of thing happen fairly frequently, but I hadn't sprained my lower back for many years. About ten years ago, I did have a pretty, darn, major back attack, but that had to do with bulging discs, not (not primarily, at least) muscle spasms. Earlier this summer, I had some spasms in the upper back, but this has been the first lower back spasm episode for a long time.
It used to be that I could rest for a few days, generally three, and then I would be able to ease back into normal activities. Perhaps it is because I am older, but my back is now taking a heckuva long time to get over it. As a result, I have been unable to do much to help in the move. Although the family might differ, I think that I have borne it with reasonably good grace, but yesterday I began to reach the end of my tether.
I simply wanted to sort my den a bit: not do much, but get things ordered or re-ordered in drawers and on shelves. That involves bending forward, and that is the hardest thing for me right about now; donning and removing socks or shoes, for example, is a struggle beyond measure. Back in the den: I tried a dealing with a few items, with much concomitant groaning and consternation. I then sat and looked forlornly around me trying to determine what to do and how I could possibly do it.
Fortunately, Cuppa sprang to the rescue. She quickly took things in hand and had the place sorted in no time flat. Not only is she healthy, but she is very good at organizing. Where I would tend, even when healthy, to hold onto something and look about me in stupefaction and bewilderment before putting it down and repeating the procedure with the next item, in her gifted way, she seems to instantly know what to do with every single item.
It was very wonderful of her, and I am deeply appreciative, but after two weeks of bearing this little affliction with at least a modicum of aplomb, I seemed to have run out of grace. I was not happy with my continued incapacitation. There comes a point when one simply wants to do one's share and get on with it. But, as the old saying goes, if wishes were horses then people would ride. Except in my case I would lift and unpack a box or two before going for a pedal.
Now, I'm no longer sure if I will ride again this year, or even walk much (as defined by going out for some exercise as opposed to ambulating haltingly about the premises) . Yesterday morning, I awoke early and spied an interesting fog when I looked out the window. "Photo op," said I to me. But I realized that I would have trouble walking to a suitable venue for pictures, and I didn't wish to try to drive anywhere in the fog, so I rolled over and grabbed a few more zzz's.
Today, I am once more resigned to my condition with reasonably good grace. For one thing, I can help at least a little by preparing some simple meals. I am able to manage that much at least. For another, I'm reasonable certain that my old back will eventually come round. For a third thing, this is not a horrendous affliction in the grand scheme of things. I could be homeless and destitute in Louisiana, or I could be afflicted with a very serious ailment, but, in reality, I'm safe and relatively comfortable. I could be confined to the floor unable to stand or sit for more than a few minutes without great pain shooting down my leg as was the case ten years ago, but I can sit (especially) or stand (for a while) in reasonable comfort. It's more the changing of positions and bending and stooping that are problematic. Beyond that, I am blessed with an understanding spouse and wonderful children who have truly gone the extra mile.
So, I am am trying to count blessings rather than wallowing in self pity. Being human (barely, some would say), I tend to forget myself by times, but I keep trying hard to remember. Yes, I keep trying. It's the human thing to do: to permit ourselves to get down a bit but then remember to get up and press onward and ever upward.