Two weeks ago I wrenched my back. I have strained my back a handful of times in the past 35 years. I have never so seriously twisted it. I have seen my osteopath twice in the last week, which is another first. I am still moving slowly but I think I am on the right track to recovery.
When I saw the DO for the second time on Tuesday she said she hadn't seen me in such bad shape before. We reviewed what had been going on in the last month. The first week of May I drove 1200 miles to Philadelphia and back with my granddaughter and daughter, for her job. I walked and walked all over University City with Maggie while my daughter worked. Then the two of them had a day at Hershey Park as we headed north, while I had a lovely visit with a dear friend. It was a wonderful week, beginning and ending with stop-overs near Boston to visit with my sons and their families.
When I got home I started taking things out of my bedroom to prepare for fresh paint on the walls and trim. I left just the bed. I took my time so it took a week to prepare the room and several days to paint. Through the whole project I was careful not to twist and lift, careful to secure my footing on the ladder, sure to take regular breaks to rest and eat, and I didn't push myself to finish. All went well until the last evening, when I put non-skid coasters under the bed...and on the lift of the second corner I felt the pop. Uh oh. I thought I had strained my back and it would take a few days of taking it easy to feel better. I already had an appointment scheduled with my osteopath six days out and surely by then I would be in better shape.
No such luck. She worked and worked and everything hurt. She did all she could in one treatment and told me to call for another appointment if I didn't feel better in three days. It was a holiday weekend so I left a message Monday evening and I went in again Tuesday. She could tell right away that things were still twisted. That's when she went back through all that I had done in May. Then she asked if there had been any additional stress.
It took me a moment to gather myself. I answered that last year these were the days when I was with my mom in the hospital in West Virginia. I have been reading through the notes I took during that time in a journal filled with dates, times, phone numbers, conversations, doctors' reports, tests done, mom's condition, questions to ask, and next steps. There is very little about how I was feeling. There was no time to process all that was happening ~ I needed to stay present to be there for mom. That's when my doctor reminded me how busy the rest of the summer was. She asked me if I have taken time to process the feelings. I told her I had been trying to reframe that experience; and as I have gone through decades of photos I have also been trying to reframe how I think about my mom's life. She said she could feel a shift in my body as I talked. Ah ha. There's something else to think about and process.
When I left the doctor's office on Tuesday I did feel a bit better. Today, June 1, I am moving more freely and with less pain. That's true for my feelings as well. The best way I know to work things through is to write.
June has 30 days. That gives me thirty opportunities to write.
Let me end with a poem by Lemn Sissay, shared by Anna on my last post:
"How do you do it?" said night"How do you wake and shine?"
"I keep it simple." said light
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