Anti-Depressant

I’ve been laying low for the past few months. Between trying to manage my on-again-off-again back pain and associated mood swings, re-learning the Art of War applications for my workplace, and coping with various-and-sundry children’s crises and syndromes, I just haven’t felt much like socializing. And so when my son’s out-of-town soccer tournament fell on the same weekend as this year’s Disney reunion, it seemed like a good opportunity for me to bow out gracefully. But my husband had other plans: “You’re going to the reunion,” he said with end-of-discussion finality. So he and The Athlete went to the tournament without me.

I left The Actor and The Four-Legged Creature at home with a babysitter, painted on a smile, dug my sunny disposition out of moth-balls, and drove to the reunion, mentally citing countless misgivings about attending. But stepping onto the patio was like crossing a threshold from fog into sunlight. Within an instant I was embraced with hugs, warm smiles, and melodious laughter. Here were people who represent some of my most cherished memories of times gone by. Here were people who knew me then and who know me now and to whom I remain timelessly connected. Here were people who live life with unflinching passion. Here were people who never fail to lead me to lightness.

We talked and laughed, reminisced and commiserated, and I could feel myself exhale. In just a few short hours they revived and recharged me with their collective generosity and wisdom, just as my husband predicted they would. The creativity, imagination, vision, and strength that filled the room were the perfect remedy for my ailing spirit. I never cease to feel humbled in the presence of this wonderfully talented group. I am profoundly grateful to call them my friends.

Maximum Medical Improvement

Yesterday I was released from my back doctor’s care. I have mixed emotions about this. On the one hand I am thrilled that I have recovered enough that I no longer need regular follow-up care, that we know how to manage my flare-ups, that I know to avoid most situations that will encourage a flare-up, and that I am in very little pain. To look at me, you would never know that 8½ months ago I couldn't walk unassisted or stand longer than 40 seconds. I am back to working out—sans running—and am back in shape.

On the other hand, being released from care means that my doctor thinks I have reached MMI—maximum medical improvement—and that there is nothing more he can do for me. That means my sciatica likely will not resolve completely; I will forever require a sit/stand station at work. I will probably never again be able to sit through a movie. I won’t have leisurely conversations with friends over meals. I won’t be able to jump for joy watching Noah’s soccer games and the front-row-center seats at Ben’s performances will be filled by someone other than me.

My vacation, leisure, and recreation activities will be selected and modified based on how long I must remain seated and how much strain my back can withstand. Travel plans will hinge on finding transportation with seats that fully recline.

I’m not as mobile as I once was. It’s harder for me to bend down and I can’t lift or carry heavy items. So housekeeping and cleaning is more of a chore than it was before and I get physically tired much, much faster nowadays. I can’t lie on my right side or sit upright on a couch, so I can no longer cuddle with the boys on either side of me while we watch TV. I think that’s the worst part—that it has dramatically changed the way I physically interact with my kids. I find it so soothing to have them physically close to me. And now my ability to accomplish that is severely limited.

Yeah, I know I’m being whiny and that many people have it far worse than I; I know many friends who had the same injury and have not recovered nearly as well as I have. And yet I know others with the same injury—or worse—who recovered fully and have returned to their very active lifestyles. Every body and every situation is different, of course, but I really was expecting that I would be one of the luckiest ones.