101 Things I Cannot Do With My Broken Back

Ok, so maybe it’s just the seven but that’s how it feels sometimes when I’m struggling to get up from a chair that a 90 year old would have sprung out of, raced over to the Viennese whirls and got back into in the time it would have taken me to lever my arse millimetres away from the cushion. Basically this thought has been occurring to me on and off for the last few months while I have been recuperating from spinal fusion in December and has made me realise just how much I truly took my back for granted.

  1. Sitting:

So let’s start with the basics. When you go to sit, you either a) find an appropriate spot, lower yourself gently in and adjust yourself accordingly, or b) find an appropriate spot and using the arms available as guides or strategic ‘bum sweeping’ motions, clear the area for perching.

If you have problems with your back, a) there is no appropriate area, only inappropriate positions, and b) perching is not an option. You have landing, falling, crumpling and, my favourite, collapsing into seats. Never perching.

When sitting down during a normal course of events as I understand it, the body’s core tightens and as the quads contract and the hamstring elongates, the legs bend and the stability behind these muscle groups allows for a steady progress down to the chair. Now imagine that instead of your core muscles, you have an inflatable ring with the plug missing. That’s the visual there folks!

  1. Getting up (or down again for that matter):

Moving from sitting to lying or vice versa is all par for the course for those of us who go to bed at night and rise in the morning n’est pas? Wrong! Normally I would throw myself in or out of bed with abandon – my own I hope you note – as I would be running late or longing to sleep.

However, without the use of a fully functioning back this is no longer an option. I must now sit/fall (see previous) onto the bed and from there use a vertical pivot to simultaneously swing my feet up and my head down, and from there I can roll onto my back if I fancy a change of scenery from anaglypta to artex. I feel like a driver with his hands stuck at ten to two 20 years after he’s passed his test.

So perhaps it’s more understandable that, having been able to do the former for many years I sometimes forget and yesterday was one of those days. I simply threw my leg under me and went to collapse on the bed, but as I realised part way down that I wasn’t to do this and that the landing would hurt I also realised that there was nothing I could do. It was at this point that I realised a third thing.

It is not the act of hurting yourself, nor the knowledge that you did something stupid to result in your injury that pains you. More the knowledge, before the pain has happened that you’re going to hurt yourself, there will be no one else to blame so yes, it is all your own fault.

Oh, and the pain itself.

Idiot.

  1. Bending over:

I suppose there’ll be a fair few of you (if you read this) that find this one funny. Well I’ll tell you something for nothing sunshine; it’s bloody not!

You probably bend in all sorts of places like the knees, the hips, the waist and have a variety of poses you can put yourself into. Best stop that sentence before it really becomes an erotic thought pattern in your mind that I have accidently imbedded.   Moving swiftly on…

‘Not too much to bending is there?’ I hear you cry; well I shall tell you that in fact bending is one of the most difficult things I have had to do since surgery. I’m sure we all know that you should bend at the knee not the back and that bending and twisting can cause damage. But what is not reported on is the fact that we still bend an awful lot in our lives regardless of whether we pick up objects with straight legs or lever ourselves out of bed in the mornings.

Take hair care for example. When drying your hair, or even wrapping it up in the towel straight out of the shower, the first thing most girls do is toss their hair forwards. This has become something of a nemesis to me.

Upon finishing my shower, I reach for my towel and then take a moment to pause and think about just how easy this was before and understand why on earth it should be so difficult now. Then, once I have finished berating myself for being a pillock I gingerly bend forwards, keeping my hands firmly on my – fairly slippery – thighs.

It is about this point that I realise that the towel I have bunched up on my right quad is never going to reach my hair unless I loosen my death grip and bring it up there

It is now that I must rely on the pesky aforementioned core muscles. I honestly did not understand quite how much I relied on them until it seems mine have been sliced through at the back. Well, alright maybe I’m exaggerating a touch but it certainly feels that way when I’m trying to hold my upper body up whilst bending. If I did not have my hands clamped to my legs as supporting struts, I believe my body would fold completely in half, thus rendering me not only painfully incapacitated but also quite unable to get myself out of this position. So I have two choices: 1) drip dry, or 2) brace my back against something while I lean.

Have you ever tried leaning your arse against the arctic cold of wall tiles after taking a 15 minute near scalding shower?? Nemesis!

  1. Running:

Would seem fairly self-explanatory given the above, but I defy any of you to exit a hastily double parked car in the pouring rain to catch the post and not jog to the box. Turns out Pavlov was right; years of imprinting do override basic common sense.

I managed two steps before my body reminded me that I shouldn’t be doing this. It wasn’t that it hurt because it didn’t (then). What it did do was totally seize up mid-stride and left me waddling my way to the post box in a style vaguely reminiscent of Kryten.

My mum fortunately had the good grace not to laugh out loud as I got back in the car.  She was thinking it though.

Following this train of thought, I have come to the conclusion that I should become an avid Pelican crossing user for the foreseeable future as it is unlikely in my current state I would be able to avoid being flattened by a speeding vehicle.

Ah who am I kidding? In my current state it is unlikely I could avoid being hit by a damn biddy buggy!

  1. Standing

You would have thought this would be the option left to me considering all the others I have discounted but you would be wrong my friend. I did not know how much standing tires you out! Having worked in bars for years this realisation has really astonished me. I’m used to 14 hour shifts of smiling and nodding and acting like the vacuous airhead most people like to have around because they won’t know what’s going on but can still provide some practical scenery. A note for another time, I digress…

Standing isexhausting.The only way I can think to describe the feeling I get in my back after 30 minutes standing is that my lower spine is starting to collapse back in on itself. Horrendous imagery but that’s what I get, and when I get that feeling…

  1. Sex:

You’re taking the proverbial right??

  1. Sleeping:

This is actually a new one on me. I am by nature a side-sleeper so when I first had the operation and was told that I needed to sleep on my back because it would be more comfortable I was not impressed. Sleeping on my back has never been comfortable and I often feel pressure on my chest and body when I try. However, for the first night I did sleep on and off on my back. By the second day I was not only in pain and grumpy from being ill, I was tired.

I do not believe I inherently have the capacity for evil in me under normal circumstances. Except when I have been denied sleep. Whether it is from not sleeping or being woken up believe me; a woman scorned has nothing on me.

So I have been sleeping on my side ever since and just bearing with the pain for the first 30 minutes when I wake up. I feel it has been a fair compromise. This was up until Sunday when I decided that I had gone as far as I could with reduction of medication which I have been doing gradually for the last three months and today was the day when I would start to do without the low dose opiates.

Low dose my tile-frosted arse.

During the day I have been ok, some pain but I have other options for pain relief.  But at night it’s like I’ve been possessed!  After a few hours sleep almost like a convulsion wakes me up in 15-20 minute intervals, but it’s not actually an external reaction. My body seems to have been having internal shudders and the feeling of them at 4am stopping you every time you close your eyes from drifting off is enough to drive a normal person insane.  In fact, I no longer feel normal.

Fortunately it is lessening and last night I got to sleep at 1:45am and woke up at 7:45am. Intersperse that with a few waking shudders throughout the ‘night’ and that is my sleep at the moment.

The day I get clear of these damn pills is the day I am going to touch my toes, go for a run, throw myself into bed (possibly my own) and test out my renewed capacity for sleep like you’ve never seen!

That’s pretty much the list for now. I’m sure there’s more but I’m boring myself with moaning. On the plus side, if this makes just one person realise how much their back is worth and how lucky they are to currently have a fully functioning one then don’t gloat.

I may not be able to make it out the damn chair in time but I’m a crack shot with a shoe.

With all the time I’ve had to practise; just try me.

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About lyricalmeanings

Moving Carefully Thinking Frankly Feeling Expansively View all posts by lyricalmeanings

2 responses to “101 Things I Cannot Do With My Broken Back

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