Sorry for the lack of posts lately (although I think I deserve a little credit for the frequency with which I apologize for not posting more frequently). I really expected to be back to more regularly scheduled blogging by now, but I plead guilty with an explanation; unfortunately, I've got too much pain on the brain to actually explain at the moment, so I'm taking a risk that Mark Zuckerberg might sue me for violating his copyright to my words by porting over my last few status updates from Facebook:
Here's my State of the Union Report on what
condition my condition is in. In a word: Ouch. In a more expressive
and accurate word: [Expletive Deleted]. Apparently gnomes have been
sneaking into my room at night and replacing my spine with a string of
Black Cat firecrackers smuggled over from Tijuana, because when I picked
up a 24 lb jug of cat litter yesterday and leaned over to pour it out,
my vertebrae began exploding one after another.
Without hyperbole, this is the worst pain I've experienced in 3 years
at least. Practically immobilized yesterday, and today, getting out of
bed was a laborious process that involved a good deal of trial and
error, the improvisation of various Rube Goldbergian devices for
acquiring leverage, and more weeping and cursing than the Russian
Roulette scene in The Deer Hunter.
State of the Spine report: Spent 9 minutes
trying to get up this morning, displaying the grit, determination, and
gracelessness of an inverted, ruptured tortoise attempting to right
itself. Seriously considered just giving up and wetting the bed, but
suspected that might prove legitimate grounds for divorce, so eventually
I just put a washcloth in my mouth and pretended I was a cowboy biting
down on a hunk of rawhide as I lay
wild-eyed and feverish on my saddle, while the chuckwagon cook squatted
in the flickering glow of the campfire and used a jackknife and a
toasting fork to dig an arrowhead out of my back.
came free (which is to say, I got a foot on the floor and a hand on the
night stand). Cookie staunched the blood flow with a sweaty
neckerchief, then the Trail Boss pulled out the harness strap I'd nearly
bitten in half and allowed me a long, grateful pull of whiskey before
they rolled me over and cauterized the wound with a branding iron.
(Side effects may include pain, infection, unmanly shrieking, persistent
scar tissue, and the tendency to be mistaken for a steer while standing
in a bucolic environment. Ask your doctor if branding is right for you.)
However, now that I'm upright enough to swallow a pill without choking,
I'm finding that helpful meds are helpful, and the pain is less
constant, and more like brief, intense floggings with a cat o'nine
tails, so I'll probably be switching to "The Story of O" fantasy for the
remainder of the day.
Today's Beast With One Malfunctioning Back report begins with the Riddle of the Sphinx: "What moves on four legs in the morning, on two legs at noon, and on three legs in the evening?" If you answered, "Man," then you correctly guessed that A) I finally answered one of those spam emails for Male Enhancement, or B) I shamefacedly asked Mary to buy me a cane so I can make it from my desk to the bathroom. In related news, a lion with the head of a woman just burst into flames somewhere, and I say Good Riddance, because I think these Monsanto genetic modification products have just gotten out of hand.
So the bottom line is, things are much worse today. I can't straighten up, the meds are barely touching the pain, and I may have to sleep in the recliner tonight, because Mary's back at work tomorrow and I can't get out of bed unassisted. On the bright side, I did manage to slip a Sophocles reference into my daily bitchfest about my back, so while I'm whiny, I'd also edifying.
Okay, this is now officially the most self-indulgent post I've ever written, having navel-gazed all the way through to my backbone, but I wanted you guys to know why I haven't made good on my promise of more regular posts, and why any future posts over the next few days may sound a little on the opiate-assisted side.
I may have mentioned this before, but
Heating Pads (works better than drugs for me).
...if you make it to Xanadu, say hi to Kubla.
(good luck with the spine)
OMG. That sounds dreadful, Scott. Docs and meds immediately, I hope.
I wish I could be there to run your errands and fetch your juice.But all I can do is send extreme sympathy and Get Better vibes.
Would it help if I said even your report on severe bank pain is laugh out loud funny?
An ability to bring the funny even when it hurts shows great quality on your part, quality we don't want to lose. Get well soon. We already lost Roger Ebert.
Oh, Scott, I am so sorry to hear it.
Glad you hooked up with a cane, and I hope it helps.
I think I'm familiar with the "getting out of bed" deal from my bicycle v car crash days: a complicated combination of rolling, momentum, clutching at tabletops and then lamps, and finally, maybe, upright (well, almost!), with clenched teeth.
And then okay, now what, you say, 'cause it's not really any better from there, as you hug a wall across the room.
I can only hope it sorts out somehow, and I'm feeling it from here.
Please, Scott, get thee to a doctor, so you can get a lovely assortment of muscle relaxants and opioids guaranteed to have your drooling with happiness and wetting the recliner in no time!
You likely know the drill my friend, heat and ice to cut the spasms, Aleve (or ibuprofen) will cut the inflammation). And, geez, buy the SMALLER containers of kitty litter!!
As per usual, sending my healing mojo your way to keep the pain down to an S&M level as opposed to a "cry hysterically" level.
You poor human -- it sounds bad. I won't suggest any remedies, with the completely unhelpful exception of saying that I once saw a program featuring a back specialist who said that some huge percentage of back problems are caused by posture anomalies of some sort -- or to put it another way, by people habitually holding themselves oddly, without realizing it.
Big bags of litter don't help either, tho. Even Riley and Moon would concur. Get better, we'll be thinking about you.
Since you seem to live in Hollywood, may I make a suggestion: If it comes to surgery, try Dr. Carl Lauryssen. My wife was bound for a wheelchair for life, and he fixed her perfectly. He really is amazing.
Note: if you want to delete this from your website that's fine, but keep this guy in mind.
Inversion table. I have a friend who's a flight attendant, on her feet most of every day in heels and she swears by hers.
Opiate blogging is great stuff! Back pain is not. My ex has had more than one laser surgery for back issues, I think having to do with discs, ruptured or otherwise. Anyway, he seems to be doing pretty well now. But then, he has health insurance and even with that, it cost a bundle. Your ordeal sounds dreadful - thanks for the update, and keep us posted as best you can!!
My (now 15) daughter actually spent the night in the hospital because of agonizing back spasms. They are horrible- in her case perhaps worse because everyone thought the problem was her kidney. She did get morphine by IV every 2 hours, which she said "helped". Jeez, back problems are horrible.
Get well soon, and all that!
I feel your pain. I mean I've felt your pain. Nothing says she loves you like holding a jar so you can piss in it. I had to sleep on the floor so I could roll over, get on my knees and pull myself up. Complete spasm after my "adjustment". Fuck that chiropractic shit, that's why they make pills. Could be worse. Think of the poor bastards down through history who got it bending over to pick up a spear. I bet they just left them for the crows.
Scott, Could Mary maybe give us a quick update on how you are over the weekend? I worry .
Sending good vibes.
Ugh. So sorry to hear this. I hope you're on the mend soon.
Word for the day: omphaloskepsis. Navel gazing.
Oh no. You're in pain? I guess I should show you as much sympathy as you've shown me.
Just kidding. I wish you well.
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