Sunday I threw out my back. I guess that's what people call it. Having never had back problems before in my life (besides the occasional pregnancy wo is me), I never knew pain. Saturday I had a sleepless night ... just one of those dream after dream after dream that you have to wake up out of consistently to remind yourself you are not showing up naked on the first day back to school sort of dream state. I was groggy at best when I got out of the bed and suddenly noticed I was bent in half with a "locked" back. Uh, wierd. I managed to "unlock" as it were, mentioned it to Jon, then went on with the morning. Stretched a bit, a little more "locking up", but nothing to write home about.
The laundry. It procreates in the night at the Eldridge household. If you don't stay on top of it 24/7 it will consume the whole house. This day being no different, I was in the laundry room switching from the washer to the dryer. Caden was "helping" putting dirty clothes in the dryer, etc. Before I knew what was happening, as I peered into the washer, I heard a loud, "crack, woosh" sound. I felt this searing lower back pain and was sure I had just been shot in my lower back and buckshot was now filling the area so my legs felt like they were falling from under me. The pain was so intense, I had to take a deep breath for a second to remind myself the neighborhood watch wouldn't tolerate gun violence, so this had to be something completely different.
After a deep breath all I could do was scream, in agony, "Jooooooooonnnn!!!!!" The man actually yelled down the stairs, "what, what's wrong?" If I had more life in me at the moment and wasn't in sobbing hysterics I would have launched a few expletive statements his direction, but alas, all I could scream the second time was, "Joooooooonnnnnn!" Caden was standing by terrified and I tried to console him that mommy was okay. Jon finally managed to remove himself from the bedroom and down the stairs (like slow sludge I remind you) to see me hunched over, hanging off the washing machine, sobbing. Jon's a problem solver, a solution oriented man, and this dillemma was not on his radar as being anything less than "fixable".
Jon suggested I lay down on the floor. I suggested I couldn't move. Jon suggested I try. I suggested Jon go to hell. Jon suggested he could help me to the floor in the front room. I suggested he would have to drag me there. Then the circus began. I can only imagine if I was a fly on the wall what I would have thought. Jon was trying to literally drag me to the front room and Caden was trying to grab one side of my leg to assist in the debacle. Jon told me to stand still and he would help me lay down on the floor. He got behind me and Captain Solutions decided he would grab me under my two arms and lower me, not unlike a human crane, to the ground. "Just relax and fall backwards." Seriously Jon? I tried to do his bidding and felt another more violent seering pain. Seems his "grab me under the arms and lower me" plan cracked a few more places in my back I didn't know existed.
I fell to the floor, mostly in agony, partly in distress that I had indeed done something that could not be repaired to said back. I couldn't lie flat on my back, I could lay on the right side, all I could do was curl up in the fetal postion on my left ... and sob. Jon stared and said, "well if you don't lie flat on your back this won't get better, I've had the same thing happen to me ..." he then suggested various physical therapy excercises I should be doing instead of being curled into said fetal position. Okay, I know someone out there in cyberspace is shaking their head left to right knowing, just knowing that with my viper tongue Jon was bound for a fast trip to a verbal lashing. I suggested Jon was NOT in my body, I don't care how much WEB MD he had read, this was NOT the SAME THING followed by another suggestion that he go to hell and now, because I was a hot mess, I asked for my phone. This was serious, Jon was not helping me, so I needed to call my mommy.
Jon's response? Prepare. Jon was apparently having a stupid day. "Well, if you want to call your mom then you have to stop crying. You can't talk to people on the phone if you're crying, she won't understand a word you're saying." WTF?!?! Are you kidding me Jon? Again, I suggested Jon's now jet engine speed flight to hell. Apparently he was also now afraid, I think for himself, so he called my mom and left a message. She called back, said she would come down to the house to help with the kids, etc (wierd having a relative 1.5 hours away that you can call and they can say they will be right there ... our nomadic lifestyle has never enabled that reality for 16 years) while Jon took me to the urgent care.
Finally, a plan. I could go to the doctor and find out what the heck I had done to myself asap. I tried to maneuver myself into a sitting position in preparation for somehow walking my butt out to the truck. My maneuvering was less than successful. It just led to a rather clumsy crumple to the ground from what I am sure was my spine collapsing on itself. Jon "pittered" away for over an hour while I laid there helpless. Caden asked if I was okay a few times, Bradyn asked me if I was okay, Drew stared at me and said to Jon, "is she okay?" Honestly, life in a house of men. Such pity and concern.
Jon fed the boys, made a diaper bag, managed to dress himself (all of this rather slowly by my standards of pain increasing), and I asked for at least a sweatshirt and some socks so I didn't have to go to the urgent care looking like a complete hobo. Jon threw his enormous sweatshirt from the military (with the giant horse spouting fire from it's nostrils on the back of said sweatshirt) and a pair of socks at my feet then left. What, what? Where are you going? I toughed through the agony and somehow managed to grab one foot at a time to put on my socks and eventually the sweatshirt.
Jon "dragged" me, almost literally, to the truck and we went to urgent care. I forgot that if you go to urgent care its important you tell the front nurse you are having chest pains or painful breathing so you can get to the front of the line. But hey, I figured Jon dragging me in there and me wiht tears down my cheek might get me front row. Uh, no. Apparently at the American Fork, Utah urgent care you go in line, in order, whatever drug seeking loser was in front of me, I was about 5th in line. I couldn't sit, I couldn't stand. Everything hurt. I held onto the front desk.
I finally get to see the doctor who suggested the culprit was anatomy. Anatomy? She then went on to explain to me how humans are built and how it's basically "luck of the draw" to have your back slip out. But a few muscle relaxers, some pain killers, some rest and ice, I'd be a little better. I got a shot of something in my behind, a nasty liquid medicine, and sent home with various prescriptions for a muscle relaxer and narcotics. The rest of the day is hazy with the exception of the fact that the pre-planned BBQ at my house for the holiday weekend still happened. I sat on the couch in a semi-drug induced coma with ice on my back while my Mom, sisters, brother in laws, and all 47 children had a BBQ. If you know me at all, you know that me being unable to entertain in MY way with MY stuff could only have happened if I was sedated. Which I was, so it happened.
Today is day three. It's my first narcotic, muscle relaxer free day, and the pain is rather excruciating, but doable. My only problem now is that I am getting occasional "ticks" on my right extremeties either following or preceding back spasms that shoot all over my spine and into my legs making me feel like a squid for a moment. This all has to be from that Yoga class I took last Wednesday, I know it. High stress people like myself should not take classes that force our bodies to "chill out". It confuses our bodies and they will go exactly 180 degrees the wrong direction and chilax until our spine gives out. Ho-hum. Wo is me. People with back problems - a whole new understanding.
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