I am fully aware that there are much worse things going on in the whole of the world at the moment, but we all have to do what we can do to stay sane, don't we? My thing was the walking, with Matthew or on my own – either way completely lovely and life-changing. Now, I don't know when I'll be able to do it again because, rather than getting better, I have made things worse this morning.
My doctor sent me some lovely drugs a couple of days ago (valium – so niiiiice) and they seemed to be helping and I was getting some movement back. This morning, I woke up feeling quite flexy and thought I'd just do the smallest of cleaning exercises by emptying the bin in my bedroom. I bent very slightly to pick it up and a bolt of red hot lighting shot all the way up my spine and down my leg. I cried out very dramatically, like this:
Then I did a fairly pathetic, whimpering cry (don't feel sorry for me – that's not why I'm writing this!), partly from the intense pain, but also because this means I still won't be able to walk for at least another week. And we were doing so well! I've done 78 walks so far, and Matthew's done a good proportion of those, and we were trying to come up with a special walk for our hundredth one. But not to worry, eh? We can still do that, but it'll just take a little longer to get to the magic 100.
No, I'm not writing this for sympathy; I'm writing it for therapy! It's always good and healthy to put thoughts on a 'page', even if no one reads them. And actually, writing the blog has been part of the whole walking experience – a big part of it. Knowing that people have been reading my silly words has undoubtedly been a major motivating factor in my continuing to walk, so thank you all for that. But now you might regret your choice because I've decided to write about my walks in the house. This could be the point at which I lose a bunch of readers!
Because, today, I managed to walk to the kettle.
My doctor sent me some lovely drugs a couple of days ago (valium – so niiiiice) and they seemed to be helping and I was getting some movement back. This morning, I woke up feeling quite flexy and thought I'd just do the smallest of cleaning exercises by emptying the bin in my bedroom. I bent very slightly to pick it up and a bolt of red hot lighting shot all the way up my spine and down my leg. I cried out very dramatically, like this:
Then I did a fairly pathetic, whimpering cry (don't feel sorry for me – that's not why I'm writing this!), partly from the intense pain, but also because this means I still won't be able to walk for at least another week. And we were doing so well! I've done 78 walks so far, and Matthew's done a good proportion of those, and we were trying to come up with a special walk for our hundredth one. But not to worry, eh? We can still do that, but it'll just take a little longer to get to the magic 100.
No, I'm not writing this for sympathy; I'm writing it for therapy! It's always good and healthy to put thoughts on a 'page', even if no one reads them. And actually, writing the blog has been part of the whole walking experience – a big part of it. Knowing that people have been reading my silly words has undoubtedly been a major motivating factor in my continuing to walk, so thank you all for that. But now you might regret your choice because I've decided to write about my walks in the house. This could be the point at which I lose a bunch of readers!
Because, today, I managed to walk to the kettle.
I make zero apologies for the dirtiness of my kettle, the tiles and the worktop. I usually do a right good clean of my kitchen on a Friday evening so that it's lovely for the weekend and I don't have to waste my two days off. Clearly, I couldn't do that yesterday so we're in a bit of a mess. I will guilt the boys into cleaning later.
So there we have it. I thought you might like an update because a few people have asked if I'm okay and if I might be able to walk again soon. The answer is that I can hobble around the house, but that's all for now. My doctor has referred me to the musculoskeletal team (why is it pronounced -skell-ee-tul and not -skel-i-tle? – that really bugs me!), so maybe some marvellous professionals will be able to help me learn how to prevent this bloody stupid disc from rupturing every couple of months. Fingers crossed.
Until tomorrow, when I might walk outside to the pavement in front of my house.
WQ
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