Major !@&*!% Pain in the....

Back. Lower region. Middle. Shooting pain down my whole left leg. My fantastically painful back spasms decided to make a comeback yesterday. And oh did it. This damn sciatica that I have battled for 10 years now (egads...I'm feeling my age now!) is an on and off phenomena. "Phenomena" because there really ain't sh*t any doctor can do. The sciatica only bows down in obedience to double dosages of Motrin...until yesterday. It was a normal Friday. Did the usual vacuuming, cleaning the bathrooms, loads of laundry Friday routine. Nothing strenuous. I was just about to pick up my basket of freshly dried clothes when I felt it. The ultra quick feeling that paralyzes. I was stuck in a position where my hand automatically "grabbed" for my back and in a flash, I was doubled over in pain and on my knees. My breath quickened, not because I'm having some kind of heart attack, but because I was in such an awkward position that my lungs were getting freakin' squished. I stay in that position for a few minutes because while I was about to pick that basket up, I was also on the phone with hubby. So here I am on the floor...doubled over in pain...holding a phone to my ear. I muster enough energy to roll onto my back so I can stare up at the ceiling, thinking that this position will alleviate the pain. Try again. This sh*t sucks. Hubby says that he should be home in about 10 minutes. "Great," I say. "Hopefully in 10 minutes, I'll have gotten over the initial pain and be able to get myself off this floor and unlock the door for you." The pain in my back is telling me, sorry honey, your hubby will have to wait it out in the hall.

I'm really too young for this sh*t. Back pain at 30. Actually, when you think about it, I was only 20 when it all started. I was working at Carlton Cards in Stonestown Galleria. The card store had all chick workers. We did have one guy assistant manager, but not for too long. You wouldn't think that our shipments would be majorly heavy, but when you're talking hundreds of cards at a time? Oh yah..they got heavy. Out of the 10 of us who worked there, only about 4 of us (me included!)would be man enough to carry those big ass boxes. Plus, our back room/stockroom was not conducive to keeping all the boxes in order. We had warehouse-like shelves which meant we had to put these boxes overhead! 'Course stupid me at the time felt that I could. I did. And after working almost 2-3 years, my back was paying for it. Unfortunately by the time I quit, I wasn't aware of worker's comp. Sh*t again.

At the time, the pain in my back was bearable. Just two Tylenol would take care of it. It wasn't until after that I really started feeling the spasms. I remember one time I was at the PACE office at State when it hit. My friends, not knowing what to do, made me lie down flat on my back on the floor. People must've thought I was weird...a Pinay chick lying in front of the office...in pain...crying. The pain can and will bring instant tears to my eyes. I don't kid around, it fricken hurts.

I was rushed to the E.R. one time. The pain was so intense and scary. I was crying in my room, trying to call out for my mom and dad in the room next door, but the pain made me choke on my own sobs. It was that bad. I made it off my bed, by rolling I think, and dragged myself to my parents' room. My dad, cranky and tired, called my sister downstairs and got ready to drive me. My mom, on the other hand....lol, oh my mom. She thought that by massaging my back, the pain would subside. So I'm crying, she's massaging, I'm crying, she's massaging....I'm crying and she's like, "What is THAT on your back?!" (in Tagalog, of course). It's my tattoo. The tattoo that they didn't know about. The one that I have been trying to hide from them for a while now. She stops massaging and starts to freak out, but I do my thing and keep crying, "My back! My back!" that she is forced to go back to massaging. Oh man, I think, am I gonna get it when I get back from the hospital! Sh*t.

I go to E.R., they stick my ass with a shot of liquid Motrin, the spasms subside, and after a couple hours, I go home. The spasm episodes happened more frequently at one time that the doctor suggested I get a sonogram. Sonogram? I'm not pregnant. "No dear," the nurse tells me, "it's to check if your kidneys or anything else in there is ok and not putting undue pressure on your spine." I get my sonogram, my x-rays, and nada. Diagnosis? 'Tisn't the slipped disc that they originally thought or my kidneys. It's sciatica. Okay...how do we treat it? Uh, you can't. There's no cure, so to speak. But here, we're going to send you to a physical therapist for the next month so you'll feel better. Lovely.

So no cure. It comes and goes. Bad news is, I'll probably live the rest of my life with it, never knowing when it'll hit. I can take double dosages of Motrin to ease the pain, I can put hot packs and cold packs on the spot, I can do certain stretching exercises, but other than that, I have to ride it out until the spasms quit. Still more bad news is, when I have a child, my back pain may be even more pronounced. Great. Just fricken' great. Sh*t.

It's been a full 24+ hours since I first felt the pain. I barely slept 'cuz I couldn't find a single comfortable position and to top it all off, Motrin ain't doin' jack for me. Can I tell you how hard it is to even go to the bathroom??? If it wasn't for Gilmore Girls Season I dvd and reruns of "I Love the 90's," this would've been a truly, truly, yah you guessed it, a sh*tty weekend.

By the way, whatever happened to my mom after I got back from the hospital? Well, she never brought it up. I sure as hell didn't bring it up. My sister THOUGHT I should bring it up. I believe that it's just one of those things that they'd rather not talk about...even if they knew it was there. Out of sight, out of mind, I suppose.

In the words of my Tagalog teacher at State, "Buhay ng buhay!" Or in the words of my girl Gwen Stefani, "It's my life! Don't you forget!"

Pray for my back ya'll and I'll be praying for all of you, too...peace out.