Out of Commission

Somewhere inside of me I knew it was coming, if I am really honest with myself. It has been building up for years. There was really nothing I could do to change it, I don’t think, but now I have to live with the consequences. I wish this was going to be as exciting and juicy as you might be imagining, but it isn’t. I have hurt my back.

When I was in college I had to take dance classes, as most of you know. My last semester, in order to stay on track to graduate after three years, I had to take two dance classes back to back. For three hours every Tuesday and Thursday I took jazz and ballet, one right after the other. I do know that one day in jazz I threw myself to the floor and rolled my way into a cracked rib. I went straight into my ballet class and never checked up. I knew it hurt to move, really it hurt to breathe, but I kept going. My husband will tell you I am hard headed, which I am. I also felt like the old cow in the herd of young gazelles and I was afraid any show of weakness would have the young ones putting me out to be eaten by the lions. So I persevered.

Many times I left dance class on Thursday with a sore feeling in my lower left side, near my hip, but I kept on, knowing it was a sore muscle. After a four day break over the weekend, I was almost always fine to start up again the next Tuesday. Through it all, I never missed a single dance class, never even sat out for a minute. In fact in all three years of college I never missed any classes, through falling and busting out my front four teeth, through cracked ribs and family emergencies, I went to class.(And yes, I wanted a gold star!) I was raised to go to school and work unless you were in the hospital! So I went. (I made all A’s in school except in ballet. After pushing myself so hard to be there and try to do the work, I have to say that final B really disappointed me, but it is what it is!)

Lately, I have worked hard to stay in shape. I am convinced that nothing gets you in good shape like dance, I noticed the difference the minute I stopped dancing. So my son Jon and I have been going to the gym regularly and working out. I think I have told you what a good trainer he is. Having been a college athlete he really knows what he is doing. He makes me pace myself and not over do. Every once in a while I would feel that twinge in the left side of my back and sneezing often jerked it into hurting, but again I figured it was a sore muscle and I could work it out. Last week my schedule and Jon’s work schedule did not mesh so I decided to go work out alone. Being the hard headed person I am, I worked longer and harder than Jon usually lets me. I took no break for 45 minutes and then ran home. I felt very independent and proud of myself!

The next morning I moved the sofa and coffee table a little to make the room more symmetrical and went about my day. By that night my back was sore, that silly old muscle again! I sat on a heating pad while watching TV that night. By the next day, Friday, I knew that I was hurt. I had really pulled a muscle big time! More heat and Tim shocked me with Jon’s TENS machine from his football days. It maybe helped a little, but I sent them to watch Homewood football without me. The thought of sitting on hard bleachers was scary at this point.

By Saturday I could not sit comfortably at all and the best I felt was when I walked. I took a walk around the neighborhood, then tried to watch football, getting up every commercial to “walk it out.” By Sunday I knew I could not sit through church or the movie we had planned to see. I hated to not honor our tradition of having Mexican food for dinner though, so we picked up Jon and headed to Habanero’s. I could not finish my soup before I was in pain and needed to walk. But this time when I started to walk, instead of the relief I had usually felt, my legs were tight and pain shot down my legs and into my tingling feet. I knew with a holiday the next day I had to get Tim to take me to the emergency room. I told my guys that I knew they would tell me that I was old and my back was old and to go home, but I had to try to get some relief. Jon told me that they would tell me what the coaches used to say, “Rub some dirt on it and get back to work!” In essence, although they were very efficient and nice, the people at the hospital told me to rub dirt on it and go see a doctor on Tuesday.

Which is what I did. On Monday a friend who is also a doctor, called in some prescriptions to help me cope until Tuesday. And the doctor I saw Tuesday (well, actually, I never saw a doctor. Not at the ER or at the doctor’s office. I was assured a doctor read my Xrays and ordered my MRI. But I never actually saw or talked to a doctor.) gave me stronger pain med after seeing the Xray. After the required calls between the doctor’s office, myself and the insurance company, that always make you upset and feeling even worse in the midst of your medical issues, I finally have my MRI set up for tomorrow morning. I have now been in pretty bad pain for a whole week. I do not know what I am facing until they see the MRI results which means another weekend sitting around, hurting and waiting.

I know many people are in much worse shape than I am and that eventually I will be fine. But somewhere inside of me, I feel my muscles that I have worked so hard for, turning to mush. I have been trying to read while on my back, but with all of the pain medicine and TV I have watched I feel my brain turning to mush as well. I have a very important new job to start on Monday that I think I might have to put off for a week at least. I can’t sit long enough to watch a play to review. Sitting here long enough to write this is hurting, but I needed to write this all out, think it through, realize how fortunate I am to have medical care and insurance and a family who takes care of me and friends who check on me. Lots of people aren’t as fortunate. Writing helps me see all of that.

I decided today to forgo the painĀ  med to see if I was any better. I am not. So now that I have written with a clear mind, I am off to take the medicine. Tomorrow I will have my MRI and hopefully start on the road to recovery. And as always, I will keep you posted.

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Marietta is a graduate of the University of Montevallo with a BFA in musical theater. She has been performing for over 50 years on the stage and continues to perform, direct and teach. Marietta is married to Tim, has a son named Jon, and a cat named Penny.