Hold that thought.
It's Thursday and I'm in a week of pain and wonder. There aren't words, and this isn't the place exactly to describe - there aren't words - how pain sets you back. Be brave, Nat, I've said a hundred times this week. I've burst out laughing as many times with the hilarity of trying to get into bed or stand up off the couch. Yesterday I stood in place by the couch starting for the kitchen. One foot down. Kent came and went through the living room and kitchen a few times shutting blinds and getting something to eat, and we both laughed our heads off finally as after about three minutes I hadn't moved. Not even twitched. Going somewhere? he offered. You know, that whole standing in place thing doesn't work when you're on your way to the bathroom. Just a thought.
Yesterday I knew I had to call Ron. Very extremely luckily I got an appointment - 11:30, Kent's lunch time. Tender mercies! Kent drove me. I'd told him that as slow as I am I'd need time to get in the door of the office, down the hall to the bathroom, and into the room to prepare for massage and TP therapy all before 11:30. He packed me into the car at 11:00 and delivered me, then went to lunch while Ron worked on me.
Ron did work on me. It's because he's so efficient at finding trigger points and resolving them that I was afraid, very (when my back first seized up on Monday) to call him. Afraid out of my wits because, as he says and I know, in this process you have to go through pain to get rid of the pain. There's old pain and fresh pain, layers of it, and it all needs to be resolved. I believe it - he's time-tested by me the last couple of years and I do stand by him. But look, I was afraid. Pain shatters you. You can't imagine someone laying more on you even if it's meant to make you better. When it gets bad enough though you're done with your own prescriptions and you pray for a visit to the healer. And exult with an appointment! So truly.
It will hurt. It hurts. Tender mercies truly.
Ron watched me walk to the room. Low back, he said. Pain running down the right leg. I grimaced (he was right) and he went straight to work on me. An hour later as he exited I asked for Kent, who I assumed was waiting. The door opened and Kent came in and began ministrations that were tender as a mother with a child. I was helpless, and he was all-help. I was shaky, and he was stable. I leaned into his shirt front and cried, and he held me. We left together and he took me home.
I'm in pain still but on the way out. Going slow and laughing at myself just as much. Last night I attempted to kneel for prayer, and this morning, and I could. It has been poignant being able to get on my knees again. Behind the words of the morning prayer was my wonder-ful gratitude for my husband. I've said many times in the last days thank you to this man. Done it with silly lists of the things I can remember from the past few hours or days, with kisses and hugs, and bragging on him to the kids. This morning as he stood from prayers, me on my knees, I said:
Kent, if I be Piglet, will you be my Pooh?
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