In July of 2003 I woke up one morning and I couldn’t get out of bed. My back hurt. And by hurt I mean burning, screaming agony. As far as I knew I hadn’t done anything — lifted something, stretched wrong, injured it. It just hurt. In retrospect I now know that I probably bulged one of my vertebrae — the L5 to be exact.
Since then I’ve had problems with it. I can go up to a year without issues, but every 6 – 12 months I reinjure it. Then I spend a good 2 weeks really, really hurting, two months feeling ginger and the rest of the time feeling nervous. I’m becoming a physical coward. But man, when it’s out it hurts. I’ve been seeing a chiropractor pretty regularly since — almost never more rarely than once a month. (Even when everything is ok, my back is still a house of horrors according to everyone who has to touch it.)
The last time I injured it was first trimester — just before I went to Belize. (Fantastic timing, thanks for noticing. I couldn’t even take ibuprofen.)
This morning, between getting out of bed and putting on my clothes, I was put on attention that something bad has happened. I haven’t actually INJURED it yet, but it feels vulnerable. (I don’t actually know how to describe it — I’m not in trouble yet, but one wrong move and I will be.) I’ve gotten smart enough in my old age to immediately call my chiropractor and try to get it out of the vulnerable position.
But the truth of the matter is I’m sick of it. I want my back to be healthy. I want to find out what’s wrong and fix it for once and for all — even if that means physical therapy. I’d consider surgery if it was almost certain to correct the problem. I’m ready to stop this, so I can exercise and move with confidence instead of caution. What I’ve been doing just doesn’t work for me.
I just called my PCP and she’s not there on Thursdays (I’ve never actually met her). I want a doctor who will sit down with me and map out a plan of attack for making this GO AWAY. Forever.