The Pain of Pain…

figure-1707104_1920As some may know, I suffer from arthritis and constant pain from a car accident. So, I am no stranger to dealing with it on a daily basis. Most of the time it doesn’t get in the way of my writing. It is something I have learned to live with and get around to keep the creative process rolling.

However, this past week, I experienced pain that was so excruciating and debilitating that it stopped me in my tracks. Somehow, I managed to tweak a nerve that sent fireworks from my lower back down to the tip of my right big toe. It hurt to move, to breath, to eat, and nothing seemed to make it get better. I used ice/heat treatments, several massages from my husband, and even the icy hot patches that I use on occasion. The more I laid there in bed, the more I worried about work and my writing.

After a miserable trip to the doctor, I received a few shots (in my posterior) and a script for a muscle relaxer. So, I finally had a solution to my pain and was on the mends, but that was not the end of my saga. The medicine and Tylenol cocktail knocked me out and made my brain feel like I was walking in a soupy fog. Even when my body started to feel better, I was still hindered by my worry. I was afraid I would move wrong again and be right back in the same predicament. I fretted over every step and every motion I carried out. From standing to wash dishes to taking a shower, I had an overwhelming sense of dread that followed me.

After a week of worrying, I finally allowed myself to relax and let it go. (Cue music.) The pain was mostly gone and I found the courage to take a bath in my garden tub. It was sheer bliss. Being able to sit and soak was such a treat that I was reluctant to get out. However, the water cooled and I was clean. So, it was time. I raised myself out and tentatively moved out of the tub. My leg didn’t buckle and the pain was only a dull ache, which I gladly accepted. The normalcy of life had returned and I was now myself again.

Now, this is where the whining about not being able to write should come in. But, it won’t. With my downtime, I  was able to watch a documentary about two morbidly obese individuals that were unable to leave their homes for years. It made me cry a few times because I knew (for a brief moment) how they felt. The pain and anguish of being stuck somewhere were all too real for these people and it made me realize just how fortunate I was to be mobile, even with all of my issues.

So, I will rejoice in the fact that I can now leave my house and get back to work. I will delight in the chance to find a quiet place to get more done on my novel and enjoy my time back out in the world (almost) pain-free.

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I hope that your week was better than mine, but I also hope you find a way to see the bright side of things even in the darkest of days.

Happy Writing!

 

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