Will Gratitude Give Me Less Back Pain?

In the past month, my body has been trying to kill me.

I’ve had two weeks of hormonal hell, which harkened back to the bad old days of teenage angst. It was so severe I actually phoned my yoga guru, who also happens to be my massage therapist. She suggested  that this was perhaps due to repressed memories that are linked to my depression. I told her I thought it was that my ovaries have a vendetta against me and that they were in the middle of a Coup to overrun my brain. To which she replied, “Yes. That, too.” (She’s fairly awesome.)

The full moon came and screwed things up even more. While walking to my car, I planted my left foot squarely on a patch of ice. Lefty shot out from under me impossibly fast as the rest of my body swung around and pinwheeled in what I can only imagine was a ballet-like twirl of which Mikhail Baryshnikov would be envious. And it hurt.

Immediately my back and hips went into spasm while my tailbone thoughtfully tried to find a new home somewhere near my lungs.

I  plodded on with life. Maybe bitched and moaned a bit. Well okay, I complained like hell as I wandered around and kept my family fed and watered in a semi-hunchback posture. But I did it. Because I’m a trooper. Pain? Phhhht! Fuck pain. I have me some shit to do!!!!!!!

The next day I felt better after some rest and anti-inflammatory drugs. I almost ran around the house, getting things done, only cussing occasionally. In the midst of my “This Place Is A Hell Hole” cleaning spree, I got my foot tangled in the curtains, tripped myself, did a dance which attracted the whole household’s attention and whammed my hip solidly on a table.

My ever sympathetic husband watched from his easy chair and calmly said “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

I don’t hold it against him. The man is desensitized to my flailings.

Another night and more drugs. I decided that even in my pain, I am a hero, and we need groceries! I threw on my cape (otherwise known as my  robe) and stoically made it to the store. Weirdly, I saw 7 other women in the produce section doing the lean-over-the-cart-in-back-pain shuffle on that very day. We all gave each other the nostril salute, as if to reassure each other we were, in fact, good mothers, even though every step was punctuated with the words “Ow! Sonofabitch!” I felt less alone.

I arrived home and with bags in hand stepped carefully out of the car. Hmm. Not too bad. As I made my way around the front of the car, a piece of ice threw itself under my right foot and had me slip to the point I truly thought my vagina was broken. At my age, the splits with a back bend? Really not  a good idea.

The second thought that went through my mind (the first was MOTHERFUCKER!)  was that somehow, the universe was going to magically cure my back pain as I had wrenched myself in the exact opposite direction as I had the first time! Yay! Tailbone fixed! Yay! Not even close.

I put in a frantic call to my massage therapist. When I told her what had happened, she was silent for a moment before she said “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I replied “I don’t know! I’m unbalanced!” “To which she said “I’ll bet you’ve heard that before, huh?” (I sort of love her even more after that.)

I went for a massage and she got me all straightened out. She also droned on about the mind/body connection and that if we let our past and fears dictate blah, blah, blah… I stopped listening to her. The pain went away. For a few days anyway. Then I got a cold. And a cold sore.

Take a moment. Are you imagining my battered, hunchback, snotful, swollen lipped self? It’s not pretty, is it?

Around that time, I saw Dr. Andrew Weil on Dr. Oz. (Does it seem like there is a shitload of Dr.s on television these days? Are they cheaper than  actors or are they bad Dr.s? Like the accidental amputation kind?) Dr. Weil says that if you write in a gratitude journal every day for two weeks you can add something like thirty-seven years to your life expectancy or something. What ever. It’s worth a shot.

Today, I am grateful for the fact that I didn’t clothesline myself on the towel bar when I tripped as I got out of the shower.

That even after making supper and using a knife, I have all my digits.

Grateful that while unloading the dishwasher I didn’t fall into it.

Very grateful that the guy whose foot I tromped on in BestBuy didn’t punch me in the throat. (I think he kinda wanted to.)

And I am especially grateful that I didn’t rip off my baby toe when I stubbed it in the middle of the night. Even though it bled all over, to the point I actually wondered if I was peeing on my foot when I went to the toilet.

There. Gratitude journal started. It wasn’t too hard. Start small, right?

And, Dear God, please don’t let me fall down for any reason this week.

I don’t think my tailbone or my massage therapist could handle it.

17 thoughts on “Will Gratitude Give Me Less Back Pain?

  1. Oh Leanne, why was your suffering so FREAKING HILARIOUS??? I was crying when you said you broke your vagina. Man, didn’t that thing get broke when you squeezed out your son, or did you do that c-style?

    Also, my eyes lit up with joy when you mentioned you were doing the “this place is a hellhole” cleanup. There is a day during my weeks of hormonal hell when I will shout “THIS PLACE IS A PIG STY.” The Man thought he was funny and clever once and wrote in on the calendar when I would have pigsty day. So, I forgot about it and BITCHED OUT one day, and he was so, so, so thrilled to find I’d complained on exactly the day he’d marked. What a jerk.

    Oh man, I hope you’re feeling better. I can’t come up with any gratitude just yet..

    okay, I’ll try:

    I’m glad my stupid shit ass thyroid still works at all.

    There.

  2. I am grateful for you making me laugh this morning and for reminding me why I do not have showers yes I would fall over getting in and gettting out and oh hell just being in the shower so that’s why I have baths………….

  3. Honest to god I’m sorry but I laughed out fucking loud at “i thought i’d broken my vagina”. I know that pain of slipping on ice…and in my case the humiliation of looking around to make sure nobody saw while trying to hop up like it didn’t hurt like fuck.
    You’re had a spell of bad luck so it stands to reason that some good luck is due soon. Hope you don’t break any other essential body part until then. HUGS (gentle of course).

  4. Oh Leanne! I swear you are my sister from another mother! I think I have finally found someone who may be a smidge clumsier than I am (but not by much!) I hope your vagina is felling better. My uterus tried to make a break for it this week, so I totally feel your pain!!

    • Wait, what? Your uterus tried to leave your body and you STOPPED it? Erin, that’s just crazy! Yes, I’m better!!!

      • I know, I so should have my head examined! But it was trying to leave through my stomach wall, and I thought that might hurt a bit, so I said no to that! Glad you and your va-jay jay are all betters!

Go on. Talk to Mama Duck.

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