I am no stranger to back issues. I have ankylosing spondylitis. For over 2 decades now, at random intervals my lower back just decides to collapse, causing me extreme discomfort. I am quite used to sometimes being unable to walk normally but rather having to shuffle around the house like a 98 year old. It hurts, but I have a high pain tolerance, plus I am stubborn, so I tend to not let it influence my life, take my Ibuprofen, exercise as much as possible and wait for it to pass, which usually takes a couple of days.
On Tuesday last week that happened again. I just kept on working, which I do from home, and went into "It will pass" mode, as I always do. But it did not really get any better over the next couple of days, in fact it slowly but steadily got worse, to the point where getting out of bed in the morning caused me tremendous pain and moving around the house was pure and utter agony. I called my doctor, asked for stronger painkillers and they told me to start taking Paracetamol together with the Ibuprofen. This reduced the pain by about 5%, so really.. not helping much, at all. But I kept pushing through, what else was there to do.
Early Sunday morning at around 2 am, I had to go to the bathroom. I managed to wiggle my legs over the edge of the bed, started to push myself towards a vertical position.. and then there was a loud series of cracks in my lower back, as if the discs got into a chain collision, and the pain was as if someone stuck a whole bunch of knives in my back, immediately making me fall back down on the bed, fighting to even stay conscious.
I ended up wetting myself, and the bed. There was no way I could get out of bed as the slightest movement twisted the knives in my back. And so I just lay there, battling the pain, helpless on my back like a beached whale, in a puddle of my own urine. At about 6 am I couldn't take it anymore and so I managed to grab my phone from the nightstand and text my son, who lives with me, an all encompassing "help". He appeared in my room and determined I needed a doctor and soon. As it was Easter Sunday, the only doctor available was the one on emergency duty at the hospital a couple of towns away. Since there was no way I could get to the hospital they came to me. So embarassing. The stench was dreadful, but she took it like a champ, pushed and pulled a little and decided I needed a muscle relaxant since all the muscles in my lower back were completely cramped up, which she prescribed me. My son then had to travel to the hospital she just came from to pick up the pills, which took him most of the morning. She also told me to get physiotherapy, and a service that helps with washing and dressing bedridden patients at home, as well as does some cleaning chores.
The muscle relaxant helped some, but it also made me drowsy and wobbly on my legs. By Monday afternoon I was able to get out of bed again, wash myself by the sink, put on clean clothes and while I did that son changed my bed, gagging but doing it regardless. Did I mention he's a hero?
Tuesday came and I was supposed to go back to working. I called in sick and told them this may take a while. "4-6 weeks" the emergency doctor had said. "2, at the most" I told myself. I am stubborn, and if there's anything I hate it's being helpless and dependant, so I was going to fight my way back and beat the odds. I called my own doctor because I was running out of the muscle relaxant. I could hear her frowning on the phone. "Muscle relaxant? That's not good. What you need is a stronger painkiller." I managed to NOT do an "I knew that a week ago but I wasn't listened to" but managed to not say a thing. One does NOT want to antagonize the very person one needs to get better. The stronger painkiller was Tramadol, an opiate, and I took my first one Tuesday early afternoon. Later that day the physiotherapist came, examined my back thoroughly, concluded multiple discs had slipped and herniated tissue was trapped between what indeed must look like a chain collision. The good news was no major nerves are trapped so I am not paralysed in any way. My legs do tingle a bit, as if I have soda in my veins, a bubbly kind of feeling. But strangely enough the extreme pain is also a good sign: things would be far worse if I didn't feel a thing. He gave me exercises to do, some useful tips about how to get in and out of bed, my chair, etc. and told me that it is very important to stay mobile, move around the house, do my exercises. He'll be back today.
Yesterday was a much better day. I could get out of bed with only medium pain, and the later in the day it was, the more easily I could move around, pull my legs up, crouch to get stuff from the floor like the cat's bowls to feed them. I force myself to get up and walk around the house at least every 30 minutes. Sitting or laying down for longer than that causes the whole area to cramp up again and makes things SO much more painful when I do get up. This morning getting out of bed was maybe a 3 on a 1-10 pain scale. I am stiff, but that was to be expected after a whole night of laying in bed but it's all at a bearable level unless I make a sudden movement or do something stupid like bending over to grab something that is on the floor. The Tramadol is making me absentminded and forgetful. I ask the same question multiple times, forgetting I already got an answer. I decide to do something, but first something else, and then I never do the thing I wanted to do directly after. So I am resorting to making lists that I keep on my desk. "Feed cats after making coffee". Stuff like that.
So yes, making progress here, not as fast as I would want to, but definitely moving towards less pain and more movement. Speaking of which.. time to waddle around the house again.
