Most of the people in my life know that I have had issues with my back on and off for years... When I was twenty-two (and had insurance of my own for the first time), I spent time with a doctor who took extensive x-rays and basically informed me that I had scoliosis that had never been diagnosed, and that as a full-grown woman it could not be fixed, except with surgery. Surgery was not a real practical choice... I am truly lucky to have a relatively mild case, and surgery is too radical of an option. It is all about managing the situation (also known as learning to live with back pain).
Since my twenties, my chiropractor and I have become fast friends... he helped me learn about what aggravates my back, taught me exercises to keep everything working the way that it should, and got me through a pregnancy in which I gained forty pounds and put some real strain on my back. He has been truly wonderful and I have fairly successfully learned how to live with the back that I have been given.
Having said all of the above... The doctor regularly chastises me for several things... traipsing around in three/four inch heels (which I don't even try to hide from him on the days I have appointments); spending too much time sitting at a desk (how else should I do my job?); and lastly... stress. The whole conversation about "you have too much stress in your life" is not a favorite of mine. It feels like having someone tell me what I already know but am powerless to do something about. It becomes a frustrating discussion...
Just a couple of weeks ago I had a scary event happen in which I literally could not get out of my bed in the morning (keep in mind O sleeping peacefully down the hall)... I had to sort of roll and fall out of bed, and then eventually managed to get to my feet... Pain was literally spasming across my shoulder and up into my head... I stumbled to the bathroom thinking a shower might help... only to almost pass out in the shower, not once, but then a second time after I got back out of the shower. Now what? The shock of the cold air on soaking wet me helped to get me down the stairs to my phone... I called my dad, and forty-minutes later he was at my back door to help with O and get me to the doctor.
Fast forward to the doctor's office... As I sat in the doctor's office, miserable and in pain, the last thing I wanted to talk to him about was what I had going on in my life that could be causing the problem. Of course I knew he would ask the question... but, still, I wanted to avoid it. With his usual perfect timing, he said to me... "stress seems to be what sets this off when it happens...do you have too much on your plate?"
Too much on my plate... Quite honestly I feel like I have a dinner plate load on a teacup saucer right now. What does this all mean? How do you "clear your plate" to make room for the things that matter most? Where do the things go that you clear off your plate? Who takes care of those things? And is this one of those "diet" situations in which you have to learn portion control in order to have the things you need/want most in your life without suffering the consequences of excess?
This is a bit of a wakeup call for me... I can't help but let my overactive imagination create scenarios in which O finds me passed out on the bathroom floor and is scared and uncertain about what to do. The one certainty for me is that she is my first priority...everything else has to come after her. So, I get it... the stress level has become too high. I am working on figuring out how to better manage the stress and get my arms around what I really need to do myself and what I need to just let go of. That is just so hard for me, but I realize that to stay strong and healthy and here for O, it is what I have to do.
No comments:
Post a Comment