For the past few days, my lower back, that lovely left side sacro-iliac joint made sensitive by 42 years of walking with one leg 2 inches longer than the other, decided it was tired of being The Good Joint and started acting out, like some sort of 15 year old kid who suddenly discovered black eyeliner and it’s older brother’s discarded My Chemical Romance cds.
“HEY pay attention to me I amsomisunderstoodeverybodyhatesmesoiamgoingtobeasunpleasantaspossible”
And right here, this time of year, when I am meant to spend much time standing in the kitchen baking cookies and savories.
Thank You, God, for creating the inventor of orthopedic granny shoes. They sure are ugly, those shoes, but make standing less excruciating, to where it’s only mildly miserable instead of “leave me alone on the couch and eat a can of soup for supper”.
Treatment? Oh sure. I have some stretches that usually help, but aren’t much. Aleve should help, but isn’t. There’s stronger things in my arsenal that will make me nonfunctional and honestly I’d rather function than not. I do NOT like the way Vicodin&Co make me feel. Yech.
So what’s possible? Steroid shots? Nope. It’s the next on the list after the anti-inflamatories and physical therapy stretches. No can do. Steroids,whether ingested or given as a shot,make me PSYCHOTIC, man!…I mean really, really, get the canvas jacket and make a panicked phone call to the 4th floor of the hospital. I’d rather lay on the floor and call out orders to my minions than risk that. (shudder) It’s happened once and the Good Dr. H my psychiatrist said “do not ever take a steroid unless it’s a matter of life or death.”
Then what? Surgery to fuse the joint…OH JOY!! not.
So first I’m going to go get a new pair of shoes. The last time this happened, I got a new pair of shoes and it settled down almost immediately. And not Jimmy Choos either. New Balance walking shoes. Maybe I can find some black ones to appease my lower back’s inner emo teenager.