This time & Back diagnosis
Mom told me today that I’m handling this separation from Grant much better than I did last time. On the outside, I suppose I am. I am going out, I am being social, and I am getting things done. Last time, when Grant left, we’d only been married a few months—rocky months at that—and I curled up and shut out the world in a very literal way. There are huge differences between August ’06 and August ’09.
In ’06, I really wasn’t sure Grant and I would survive being married. Deep down, I really thought his leaving had more to do with who I was—and what he couldn’t handle—than anything else… and the anything else was his need for material things. Neither of these reasons for leaving gave me warm fuzzy feelings. Then, there was the fact that the only time we’d spent together and been really carefree was before he proposed. Afterward, it was wedding-this and wedding-that; and Wisconsin was a crater of a depression for me (I can’t imagine the terror he felt: proposing to a manic and marrying a depressive… yikes).
Now, in ’09, things are completely different. We’ve lived apart, so I am well aware of my ability to stay here without him, faithfully loving him from the other side of the world. We’ve spent a year living together and – the kicker – we were really happy. I am certain we’ll survive. And… I know the reason he leaves now. It isn’t because he can’t live with me (although, I seriously don’t know how he does it), and even though he is rather materialistic, it isn’t about the money. Grant travels because it’s who he is. It’s no coincidence that Grant decided and left the country mere months after his father’s passing. Gary traveled the world in his early years, and the country until his death in March. In fact, Gary passed away like any true hard-working, God-loving man… in his truck after a solid day’s work at a job site. That imagine of Gary’s last moments is the essence of who Gary was… and the legacy he passed on to Grant. Hard work makes a man, long hours are nothing to complain about, and always go further and do better than people expect; those are the lessons my father-in-law, perhaps unknowingly, imprinted on Grant. So this time, Grant’s leaving is different. He’s following his bliss, working long hours in shit conditions… and being the best at what he does because anything else won’t do.
I don’t have the insecurities nagging at me that I once had. Over the year we spent together, I discovered how fiercely my husband loves me… and every time I stop to think about it, I’m amazed at how lucky I am. There’s no woman in the world as lucky in love as I am… but then, anyone who’s met Grant knows that already.
I do have news on the pain in my back. (Since I haven’t updated lately: I was having muscle pain in my lower back in early May, thought it was a pulled muscle, then a herniated disk… was told ass time and lots of meds to cure…as of last update, still in lots of pain)
I went, on the recommendation of two different primary care doctors (fun with moving), to an Orthopedic Specialist last week after having an MRI. Oh, I know Dante didn’t have MRI’s in his day, but if he had, he’d have surely added a circle of hell… imagine being just barely big enough to fit into a circular coffin—for 20 minutes. FUN.
In any case, it turns out I have congenital narrowing of the spine, which isn’t all that uncommon and sounds a lot scarier than it is. The basic problem is the pain may not just go away – and, joy of all joys, my left leg is becoming substantially weaker than my right (nerve compression or something). I have been enrolled in physical therapy (aqua therapy to be specific… yay) to strengthen my back and leg, and I’m meeting with a pain specialist on the 13th to discuss options for pain management (including but not limited to shots of cortisone directly into my spine). If the pain/nerve problem cannot be resolved with these treatments, surgery may be required. Frucking fabulous. Yet another problem with my body that I have absolutely no control over… I’d have totally been happier if this was weight related. At least then I’d have myself to blame. On the plus side, this does explain why I’ve been a klutz my whole life, and why I’ve had back pain from bending over to pick up a pencil, and why my left toe has been numb for six months. Plus, there’s the sympathy card.
Seriously, feel sorry for me. I’m in pain, and I may have to have back surgery. No. You have medication for the pain and ‘therapy’ consists of playing in the pool. But if I miss a pill or don’t take them on time—or push myself to hard—I’m in PAIN. And I have to go to this pool twice a week instead of kicking ass at a gym! OH! And there’s talk of shoving a needle into my spine. FEEL SORRY FOR ME! Um… nope. Take your damn pills on time, moron. And you’ve done enough ass kicking… perhaps this is karma for all those times you refused to see a doctor. Smoke that in your peace pipe. And as far as the needle goes, it’ll take away your pain, so…. No sympathy. Any if NONE of it works and I HAVE to have surgery??? That huge stress!! FEEL SORRY FOR ME!!! If you have to have surgery—and it’ll likely be because you did something the doctors told you not to do because you routinely think you know more than they do, then you can have sympathy… but only a tad… and only because you’ll inevitably overreact and worry yourself to pieces about dying on the operating table. Yay. Sympathy. The silver lining…
Well, I’ve been writing completely stoned (you could totally tell, couldn’t you?) on my meds… I should head to my very empty bed. Oh… I think I mentioned before (at the top) that I’m doing better this time—on the outside. It’s an important distinction. Inside… well, let’s just say that more than most of my heart is in Afghanistan and my mind follows after it constantly. I miss him as much as I love him…
And now I’m off to dream—or drool…either way…</span>
Pictures from the BBQ two weeks ago:
Dom and Baby Jacob
James and Baby J
James and Baby J
Steve
