Can I Have My Back Back?

The last couple days have been uncomfortable and totally unproductive. I hate that.

The sciatica (that is, the low back pain) got progressively worse until, on Thursday, I was hobbling from place to place in the house. I was lucky to get some food made and keep myself hydrated. In the evenings, the muscles would be sore and knotted and obviously pinching on the nerve. Owie.

Luckily, I have a couple of bottles of generic Tylenol with codeine left over from Steve's illness, so I was able to mitigate the pain, but any hope of packing or carrying boxes to the garage was gone. I was hobbling around, moving things from upstairs to downstairs, and I even got a box of framed artwork packed and labeled. But chronic pain wears me down really fast.

As with any back problem, bed rest is the main element of recovery, and for someone with insomnia, that's not easy. Lying down on the couch watching TV is not the same thing as lying flat on your back, giving the muscles hours of rest. And I can't help but think there is a psychosomatic component to this, a kind of hysterical reaction (if you're up on your Freud). But the point is moot: pain is pain and lack of progress is frustrating.

I found that by bending forward slightly at the waste and taking short steps, I could get from place to place in the house without setting off the twangs in the the nerves. It was a shocking realization to find myself moving just like a 90-year-old man. I had to laugh: I had turned myself into an old, dottering creature who could do nothing more than exist in pain in this house until he died. I reconsidered the psychodynamics of it all and spent time last night before sleep concentrating on the "injury" and relaxing the muscles. I think it did some good.

I woke up this morning and the pain on the right side had subsided to where I could walk comfortably on that leg. The left side is still sore, and any twisting movement sets off the pain, but it's not knotting up like before; as soon as the movement stops, the pain stops. Most certainly, I'm calling the chiropractor on Monday to get this dealt with.

There are other things to deal with, as well: this coming Saturday is the anniversary of Steve's fall in front of our house (the last day he was at home and the beginning of a very expensive end). A month to the day after that will be the anniversary of his death. I'm sure I will be going through a tumultuous passel of angst, emotional upheaval and upset. I only hope that the year's milestone will move me into a stabler place, and that I can put the mourning away.

I'm wondering what to do with my wedding ring. I don't want to wear it on my finger anymore. I was ready to take it off several months ago, but I thought wearing it for a full year would bring some kind of formality to the gesture. I still have the box it came in, so it might get stowed with other precious memorabilia. I might wear it around my neck, but that feels too much like hiding it, putting it into my emotional closet.

Then there's Steve's cremains. The actual container for the cremains is much smaller than the larger, formal box within which it resides. Perhaps I'll collect marriage stuff and make a sort of time capsule out of the bigger box, putting the corporeal remains of Steve and the marriage within and placing it somewhere unobtrusive in my new home.

So, as this is Sunday, I have decided to rest: no packing, no cleaning, just lots of napping, reflecting and relaxing. The weather has gotten very hot and very humid, so I'm splurging and running the air conditioner on automatic all day just like normal people do. I'm focusing on the image of waking up tomorrow morning with the soreness and stiffness simply gone.

Where have all the simple things in my life gone? I've got to pack them and make sure they reach my next destination.