back in back

 I’ve had some sort of relapse — my back that is. Wednesday I either over stretched or made some provocative move and am now in as much pain as I was six months ago. I feel like I’m looking into an endlessly dark future. I feel that way. I don’t know that. I just feel that because I’m angry, frustrated, sad and scared. For right now, as I’m in mourning over my brief window of being on the mend, I’m going to have those feelings. I’m not suppressing them because it’s how I feel. Maybe in a week or a month if I start seeing some results well then I can change my tune. Or maybe I’ll get used to living in pain like this. Or maybe I’ll recover and have as normal a life as I can have. 
I went to the Dr. today. He wants to run a nerve conductivity test next week. He says it takes ten days for the nerve damage to fully show up. My inner thigh is on fire. My hamstrings are on fire. My calf burns. My foot burns and my toes are numb. I can’t stand more than ten minutes. I can’t walk more than 20. I have muscle spasms running up and down my back from the bottom of my ribs running around to the front of my abs. My mother said that I did this to myself because I can’t imagine myself getting better. 
I would like to officially ask life to stop giving me lemons. At least for a little while.
And now I know that Advil was irritating the metal plates in my arm. I was off the Advil and then when I started taking it again my arm started hurting. So I can either have horrible nerve pain or horrible bone pain. 
In six months I haven’t been to the movies once. I’ve been to two parties. I’ve gone out to eat a handful of times. I haven’t ridden a bike in almost a year. I’ve only gone on one trip out of town and that was to Ojai. I’ve missed birthdays, dinner parties, Christmas, New Year’s. My life is this room and the ceiling I’ve been staring at. Yes, I’ve written and I’ve managed to teach. I’ve had visitors and I’ve made dinners. But I don’t feel like I’m living anymore. 
Often I consider what point in my life I’d like to return to if I could. If I could start over. I’d have to go back to when I was eleven. 1980. That would be it because when I was twelve I got my leg stuck in an oil pump and the way my bone set after it fractured has been a contributor to the trouble I’m in now. So at night when I’m awake and in pain I think of 1980. It’s like some mystical place even though I know historically it was not a great year (but then what year(s) were great?)  Maybe the 90’s? It seemed for a moment like we were done with apocalyptic anxiety. 
Oh little life of mine.  Let’s hurry up and get better so I can get back to you soon.