Back on the Mend of the Back

The weather has been ungodly hot since the weekend. Supposedly, the bakefest will subside during the middle of the week (that's tomorrow, when it's going to be 101 instead of 106 like today). The weatherman promises it will be in the upper-80s/low-90s on the weekend.

I went to the chiropractor on Wednesday last week and got my back examined and adjusted. The relief from the nerve pain was almost immediate, but my back was sore and tender and nowhere near better, even though I had better range of motion. Still, standing for any length of time resulted in aching muscles and the return of the nerve twinge.

The instructions were ice packs when desired, but at least three periods in the day (including night) when I lie down and completely relax my back for at least an hour. No lifting, no carrying, but when the back feels good, exercise it to discomfort (i.e., go out to dinner or go shopping or something else you don't even think about when you're feeling good).

The upshot is that here, a week later, I am standing up without worrying too much about clenching muscles. Sometimes they cramp up, but I just work through it or take five minutes out and sit down. I'm still very frustrated that I can't continue on the packing, but Kittie and David will be down this weekend to help.

Jessie drove up from Irvine on Saturday and we went out to Panda Inn for dinner. Unbeknownst to her, it was the anniversary of Steve falling on the sidewalk outside the house and breaking his shoulder and hip. It was the last time he saw our home.

It was tougher on me than I thought it would be. There were some tears shared before dinner, and I realized how strange and lonely my life had been over the last year. It's very hard to see all the changes going on when you're in the middle of something scary, strange and new.

Jessie helped out when she arrived, taking the trash out and cleaning the kitchen, since the trash had drawn flies over the last week and I couldn't even get it to the garage, much less tote it out to the dumpster. I was just sick about the flies (I had only seen a few; the cleaning activity really stirred them up, and there were at least a dozen). I started to cry, imagining taking my first steps toward being on "Hoarders."

When Jessie dropped me off after dinner, I sat down on the couch in the living room and looked over to the spot where Steve used to sit. A whole year without him there; a whole year to the minute, almost. And I started wondering if he didn't have a little something to do with this back problem here on the anniversary of his injury. Or perhaps it's all me having a hysterical conversion over the whole mess.

The work on the chamber of commerce directory is going well. I've got a rudimentary layout file going, a general graphic concept and ads are beginning to come in. It's nice to have a large and complex project to concentrate on. Kelly from the chamber office will be picking me up on Thursday morning so we can go over and coordinate the ad sales and production needs of the book.

Steve's accident's anniversary did get me thinking more about him, about not having him here, about selling our home and starting a new chapter in my life, quite separate from the past. I want to feel myself carrying him in my heart and my life, but I want to feel myself moving ahead at the same time.

I've stopped being angry at our "friends" not helping out. Perhaps I'm just not begging enough or my circumstances aren't dire enough to actuate their concern; whatever, I'm going to go with the resources I have and stop wasting energy and focus on those who aren't here rescuing me. How dare they have lives busier and fuller than my own. Just you wait! Once I'm established in La Crosse, I'm going to be a primal force of civic fabulous.

So I'm on the mend and simply frustrated by my inability to continue the packing. There are some small things I can probably clear out in the next couple days, but I have to be judicious about how I expend myself. Emotionally and spiritually, I'm good: I hit the mark when I grieve, and bounce back faster and feeling more confident each time. TCB.

I have another appointment with Dennis (my chiropractor) tomorrow afternoon, and I'm hoping that the back will limber up a little bit after the treatment. My fantasy is to be able to jump in with both feet this next weekend and make it to within sight of the finish line, houseshowingwise.

But, as I reminded Jessie, Fritz Perls, the father of Gestalt therapy, said, "Don't push the river; it flows by itself." He also said something about cataclysmic expectations, but I forget what and I can't find it on Wikipedia. Oh, well.