I think I am going to get cortisone injections in my back after all. But of course I couldn’t get a doctor appt until August, so um, maybe a few weeks after that?

Lately I have been thinking a lot about my back pain, which has worked its way into my legs, and can now be felt for the majority of the time. I wonder about how much of it is “my fault.” I am trying to take some responsibility for not being as disciplined as I could have been about my therapy, exercise, and taking care of my body. I could have worked so much harder. I could have fought harder, worked out every day, done stretches and pilates more frequently. But I didn’t. One reason is because this pain is “quiet.” I am not in agony, crying, limping around. It just sits there tap tap tapping on my spine like a leaky faucet. It is literally a pain signal being sent at all times from a nerve in my spine to my brain, like an SOS on a telegraph wire.

I know that it will keep getting worse and worse until I truly and completely dedicate myself to healing it. I refuse to let this thing ruin my entire life.

I have dreams where my back pain is gone, and I am able to run again, and be normal again. It doesn’t even seem like that long ago! I can remember just two summers ago, going camping and traveling to Seattle with Brian to meet my dad, and not thinking about what things I can and can’t do because of my back. We even went running on that trip, around the high school track near the house.

But yeah, when you are in constant low-level pain, you soon become constantly low-level depressed. It’s the hopelessness, the helplessness. I am surrounded at all times by adults my age who are able to run, sit in chairs, and do other things I took for granted. Rather than make me jealous, they kind of inspire me. They make me think about the time in the near future when I will be healthy again, healthier than I have ever been, with strong legs and back and arms. I am going to be so ripped! It’s true. Somehow.