That Looks Like Pain

Last year when I was on vacation in Florida at my in-law's house I started writing a poem titled, "That Looks Like Pain".  It's been sitting in my blog folder ever since.  I revisit it from time to time but have yet to be inspired to finish it and here I am back in Florida at the end of another year's vacation and that poem's still unfinished.  But I think about the title from time to time because it's part of how I live my life, avoiding those things that look like pain.

What looks like pain?  Sitting on the floor.  Yes, I can run fifteen miles relatively free of pain, go to the gym and do all sorts of exercises and go up and down stairs all day and not have a problem.  But sitting on the floor for ten minutes, interacting with my children as they play with whatever it is they're having fun with, and I'll still be in pain hours later.   I don't understand what it is about that position.  Sitting cross-legged doesn't help sitting with my legs out in front of me will make it worse more quickly.  The only solution I've ever been able to come up with is to just not sit on the floor.

I've had surgery for cervical spinal fusion.  That means I have two less movement points in my neck than most people do.  I know that the vertebral junctions directly above and below the fusion are working harder than they otherwise would and are on their way to being fused by natural means as time goes on.

What that means is that my body is growing bone spurs and the movement I'm getting out of each of those joints becomes less over time.  This is a known and expected progression with situations like mine.  I can tell things are changing and becoming more constrained because the movement I'm getting is less, and chiropractic adjustments, a non-medication treatment that has given me much relief over the years, are becoming more challenging for achieving the same results.

The Chiropractor suggested they take more X-rays to determine the level of degeneration.  I told them I would be glad to pay for an X-ray if it would help them in their adjustments, but that I don't want to know the findings.  I don't want to know how bad it is or how bad it's going to be in the future.  Or, to be extremely specific, I don't want to know how much more pain I will likely be in. 

Everyone has their own worst fears.  I don't know if chronic pain is a worst fear or just a known fear I have because I've spent more time than I care to recount in pain I couldn't escape or avoid.  I forget sometimes that I avoid certain things, like looking up at the sky or sitting on the floor with my children, because doing so puts me in a pain cycle that can take time to recuperate from.  I have a precarious balance I seem to be able to maintain a good portion of the time and I try to stay in "balance" as much as I can.

The good news is as long as I avoid all those things that my brain warns me are bad, I'm usually doing okay.   Here's hoping that list of things to be avoided doesn't increase by too much too quickly since I hope to be around for a good while yet.

The Big Boy Update:  Out of one bed and into another.  On vacation, my son has a rental crib.  He can climb out of it in about five seconds.  The other thing he learned is when he wakes up, he can climb out, pull his blankets and pillows out and then go into Nana and Papa's bedroom and get into bed with them to have a fun time before breakfast.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  Water fearless.  She is fearless of the water.  Jumping in, going completely under, staying under, and generally splashing about having a very wet and fun time.  She has complete faith that an adult will keep her safe.  Looks like we have our work cut out for us.

Someone Once Said:  A fool cannot be protected from his folly.