Self-Preservation and Isolation Blog 8 – The Time Everything Ground to a Halt


For the moment, anyway.


At time of writing, I am struggling though a bout of what’s believed to be Sciatica. I’ve never had it before, and I have to tell you – the pain is unlike anything I have ever experienced in my entire life.


It started last Tuesday night after a fairly light PT session. I’d done nothing out of the ordinary and was finishing up a set of assisted box squats.  I felt nothing as I made to leave the building or as I said my goodbyes and that I’d see them next week. I walked outside and turned the corner to head towards the car park when suddenly the most excruciating, fire burning, almost blackout inducing pain I have ever experienced screamed though the top of my right thigh.


My Husband (bless him) had to help me more or less limp to the carpark and by the time I got to the car I was in tears.


That night I took some Nerofen and hoped for the best.


The following day, I woke and found my right knee on fire. I was holding on to walls, limping to go to the bathroom and the same when I had to go down for breakfast. I took some Panadol (was all we had) and prayed.


Hubby went to work as per the norm, and I struggled with my normal morning routine of feeding kittens, preparing a salad for dinner and making my lunch for the day.  By the time I got to the point of having a shower – I could barely stand up and it was all I could not too scream from the pain.


I called Hubby (and I thank all the Gods, the moon and the stars) that he was near his phone and picked up – or I swear I would have been completely lost – and begged him to come home and be with me as I couldn’t move.


He was with me within 10 minutes and I’m forever glad he was, trust me on this. He spent the next two days picking up scripts for pain relief and helping me do simple things like shower and dress, make it to the loo and get in and out of bed.


He returned to work on Friday ( I had called in for sick leave so that was all sorted) and I was able, at the very least, hobble about on my own – albeit slowly – and I was under strict instructions to do a grand total of nothing.


Which I dutifully obeyed.


On Saturday, I had an appointment with my Chiropractor, Dr Jen.


It didn’t help matters that my leg gave out trying to get out of the shower that morning and I ended up grazing my hip and my right knee and slicing my big toe on my right foot open. Hubby was beside himself (and it would be fair to suggest that perhaps I used up 7 of his nine lives in that moment) but between the two of us and some calm, rational, thinking, we were able to haul my wet ass out of the shower and get me dressed.


Managed to make to my appointment on time (and thankfully one piece) and Dr Jen went to work. To say that it hurt would be the understatement of the year – but there you go. It was a ‘cruel to be kind’ measure and so I appreciated it on that level at least. (Side note: I go back to her this evening for round two)


Sunday saw me at my local GP clinic for some more painkillers. I still wasn’t fairing great so, thankfully Hubby was able to dust off ye olde wheelchair (never thought I’d ever see that again) and wheel me into the office.

Now, I am never one to speak ill of people – especially those whose job it is to assist me on my ongoing journey as a science experiment – but suffice to say …this one??? Wasn’t great. Firstly, he made me get up on to the bed and lay on my back (This in itself was painful x 3000) and then made me lift both legs up (one after the other) and pushed back on my right foot. I was in a flood of tears and I began to wonder if those sitting in the waiting room were wondering if I was going to die because I was howling in agony so much!


He prescribed some extra strong pain medication, took my blood pressure ( Which, naturally, in the moment was high), lectured me on how not to become addicted to strong pain killers and how I should continue with the course of Blood Pressure meds he gave me the other week. Then he told me to come back and see him in 10 days and I left.

I took one of those meds he gave me and *Not* to my surprise – they did nothing and didn’t even take the edge of the pain.

I’m currently making my way through a packet of Advil and they seem to be doing the job just fine. Funny that, huh?


The thing that annoys me most about this is that I feel I have gone all the way back to square one. That everything I’ve done. All the progress I’ve made – has all been for naught. Because of this one, small thing I have to start all over again. And that is just not fair.


I haven’t been able to do much of anything. No Cardio. No weights. I tried stretching it out and almost passed out because of the pain. All I’ve been able to do is sit (and even that is uncomfortable at the moment) and kick my leg out from the knee down – just to keep it moving. Walking has been slow and deliberate; although I am pleased to report that I can, as of today, put weight on the heel of my right foot without it hurting too much which is something I guess but it still doesn’t take away from the fact that I’m facing weeks ( possibly months) of starting again… and that makes me so mad I could cry.




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