Bunny Hop Recovery

I seriously injured my back about 2 months ago now, and my recovery has been a bunny hop: two hops forward, one hop back.

I knew I was ready to write a blog post again finally when the thought of putting on pink lipstick and my roommate's bunny ears for a picture didn't confuse or overwhelm me.

(For the record, my roomie is RIDICULOUSLY cute in the bunny ears with her matching pink hair.)

To make a long story as short as I'm capable of (not very), I've been having rolling compensation re-injuries climbing steadily up my back. The first injury was basically compression in my tailbone, so I compensated by shifting pressure up a few vertebrae, which then injured them, but not quite as seriously. So far, it's looked about like this, with the area injured:

* tailbone: 2 weeks out
* okay-ish: 2 days
* between the tops of my hipbones: 10 days out
* okay-ish: 3 days
* just above my hipbones: 7 days out

... and so on.

When I'm actively injured, I can do very little other than go to the chiropractor, do my stretching exercises, take walks, take muscle relaxers, and fall back into a very deep haze which my husband has forbidden me to call "coma-like" because it freaks him out, so I call it "grog-sleep". We tried other medicines, but either they didn't help me heal, or they made me just as groggy. The side effect of being deeply confused by everything more complex than getting dressed has been worth it for the pain relief and ability to knock myself out so I don't push myself too hard to fast (it would have been worse without the meds, I'm sure).

When I've been okay-ish, I've been tackling my personal to-do list, trying not to do too much too quickly, and being more grateful than I can express for the extraordinary generosity of my in-person lover with sugar daddy tendencies for making sure I could take this time off to recover without worrying about expenses.

I've accomplished a lot, actually, in my lucid hour or two at a time. The biggest emotional victory was: I have no more boxes marked "misc" from any of my five moves in the last ten years - not even "misc electronics" or "misc bathroom". The resulting trips to goodwill and the recycling center felt fantastically satisfying. I know what all my things are, and where they all belong! It's wonderful to feel a little less cluttered and a little more purposeful about my belongings.

And I have taken a few appointments here and there on days when I've been up for it. Slipping into someone else's fantasy has given me welcome respites from the navel-gazing.

What do I predict for the coming weeks? Not even gonna try. I'm officially crappy at predicting my abilities ahead of time. But if the best predictor of future performance is past performance, then this much I know: I will do as much as I can. I've been working hard at my recovery, and as soon I can come back to phone sex more regularly, I will.

The one funny solace I have about all this time off is that now I have proof when I say: I won't get on the phones unless I'm feeling sexy. I won't make an appointment or keep an appointment unless I'm feeling sexy. If I'm logged in, I'm feeling sexy, and I'm ready to play, you can count on it.

If you've sent me a check-in email or a note of encouragement and I haven't responded, thank you and I'm sorry. I will reply to them all some day when it doesn't overwhelm or confuse me - I will, I promise, and I'm deeply grateful.

In the mean time, it's a major fucking accomplishment to hit publish on this blog post, so I'm gonna pat myself on the back and treat myself to some peanut-butter-filled pretzels that I save for special occasions. It's not exactly a life of ease and luxury, but I'm grateful to the point of mushy sappy hyperbole to have the chance to live it.