You can do it, (just don't) put your back into it

Today I write you from the rather loopy world of vicodin and muscle relaxers, so I apoloize if nothing in the following post make sense or if I ramble.  It's been an interesting 48 hours, to say the least.  One minute I'm happily pain and worry free, the next I'm on the phone asking my husband if he would kindly come pick me up and take me to the ER.  Oh how things can change in the course of a second.

I'm of the school where if there's no pain, there's no gain.  I played countless high school and college lacrosse games with a newly bandaged sprained ankle -- I even played a lacrosse game in high school less than 24 hours after getting my head stitched up from a wayward stick hitting me in the forehead during practice the day prior.  This was part of life and it didn't bug me in the least.  "Just give me something to get rid of the pain and let me back in the game" was my mantra.  Perfectly okay when you're an 18 year year old, not okay when you're 27, apparently.  I was lifting a couple boxes (nothing too heavy) when on my way up I felt a tightness in my back and then it hit me -- a stabbing pain more unbearable than anything I've ever felt before (yes, moreso than the stick to the head or the night i broke my nose).  My first thought: "Oh.My.Gosh, I just threw out my back -- I'm 27 going on 57."  I was able to make it over to the phone and call my husband, who gallantly left work, picked me up and whisked me off to the ER. Well, more like he pushed my wheely chair to the door b/c I couldnt walk and then all but picked me up and carried me to the car b/c i was in so much pain. Thankfully, he switched vehicles before picking me up, because I don't know if in my condition I would have survived the 5 minute trip riding in this:
Mr Bama's 1978 Jeep CJ-5 when we bought it last January.
So the last time I was in this ER was the night Mr. Bama was bit by a dog when we were whisked in to see a Dr. almost immediately after we arrived.  WELL, apparently Tuesday nights are less crazy than Monday days, according to the nurse who finally saw us 2 hours after we arrived.  Her suggestion: "you picked a hell of a day to get injured. Never get injured on a Monday, they're our worst days"  Advice that definitely came much later than needed -- I'll remember from here on to remind my body to hold off on any craziness until Tuesdays.  Hunched over in my wheelchair (pathetic doesn't' even begin to explain it...) i could only semi-muster a grin on the nurse's comment.
Anywho, 3 hours later and with shots of pain reliever & high test pain meds,  I was feeling amazing.  One nurse asked how I was and I said something along the lines of "I feel Spectacular!"  At least that what I thought I said.  The nurse just looked at Mr. Bama and then back at me and mentioned something about a buzz and getting some sleep.  My thoughts were "sleep!? why would I sleep when I feel so wonderful!?"  20 minutes and one fabulous nap later, I was at home eating a wendy's frosty and reclining on my couch.  I made it through the night, only waking up once b/c my meds had worn off, and yesterday I was able to walk semi straight without any real pain.  I can't stand up from sitting down very easily nor can i turn or crouch down.  The good news is that the Doctor thinks I just sprained my back.  But since chronic back pain runs in my family, I'm not taking any chances and I'm taking everything one teensy tiny (and painful) step at a time.

Lessons learned from this experience:
  • I'm a terrible patient (b/c i have no patience. ha!)
  • when picking a spot to "relax," make sure you like said spot, b/c you're going to be there for a while.
  • everything tastes good when you're on vicodin
  • pain quickly morphs into boredom when you're stuck in the house not doing anything but "resting."  My back may feel broke, but I assure you my mind is far from that.  
  • there is much truth to my mom saying "lift with your legs! not with your back!"  Sorry mom.
  • if theres a time for the Dog to puke up on your rug, it will right after your husband leaves for work, so you alone are the only one to clean it up.  Choose between smelling dog upchuck for 8 hours or getting on your hands and knees to clean - thus pushing your recovery back by about a 1/2 a day.  Guess which one I chose.  Neither option is pretty, I assure you.
Well, in conclusion, i must say that this Valentine's Day definitely goes down in history as one of the most interesting, for sure.  Nothing says Valentines Day like a trip to the ER and super duper pain relievers.

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