After days of positive thinking, of saying, at least, mentally I feel strong, of pushing past the pain, I took a step backwards. I could feel it coming all day yesterday as I did little to move off my recliner, pretending that I needed a Sunday of rest. As I pulled myself off the recliner this morning, anxious to get the morning started, apprehensive that with each step I took, the pain would commence. The truth is, I've gotten to the point where I want to move as little as possible so tired of the pain that I'm in.
At lunchtime, I tried to pull myself out of my funk by writing in my daily journal of gratitude. It wasn't working. I tried harder by moving myself to the patio. It made me feel a little better, but not enough. I tried even harder by walking one and a half times around the patio.
By the end of lunch, I was back on my recliner, my legs aching, crying out loud. The pain, I can take. The self-pity, not so much. Still, I pray for a reprieve from the pain. I am praying, pleading, begging the Lord that the new medication I'm taking will give me relief.
I was reading something today that someone wrote about waiting and how waiting for the unknown was the hardest. I get it. I think about one of my biggest fears, paralysis. It may come tomorrow, it may never come. Today, it was foremost on my mind. I can't sit forever, it's not good for compression, yet I don't know what else to do, standing is virtually impossible, walking not much better.
A thought struck my mind. I'm afraid of paralysis and yet, here I am, spending most of my time doing what I'm most afraid of...sitting...in a chair. Yes, I can still get up, take a shower, get my food, dress myself, but even that I'm not doing much of. I haven't taken a shower since Friday...yuck! I know, it makes me feel even worse.
In some ways I felt an amount of relief. If that would be my lot in life, well, then, I could handle it. In some ways, perhaps the pain would be limited, I don't know. I hope so.