Disclaimer: Don’t expect this to be too amusing. Muscle relaxers make minds mushy. Narcotic pain pills make minds even mushier. And I can’t make tragedy humorous unless I have at least a day or two away from it, and I only got one day away from it and I didn’t sit around writing. But more on that later. This is just an update for those who have wondered how it’s going. I miss really writing, but alas – muscle relaxers and narcotics. So all that to say, you get what you get.

Last Sunday – As I had promised to put myself on a seven day bed rest as much as possible, I slept and laid around all day. Hurting. A lot.

That evening, Chris insisted that getting out would make me feel better (I hadn’t left the house in 48 hours), so he took me on a sunset ride. I couldn’t use my DSLR camera, but at least I could take pictures with my phone.


Only…I realized when Chris posted the picture below of me taking that picture that I broke one of the two rules I was given – don’t lift anything more than 3 pounds and don’t lift anything above your head.


Oops. I blame my husband.

Monday – I had hoped that I had been sandbagging when I said that I wasn’t going to blog for a week, and that I’d get all kinds of writing done while I was resting.


It hurt to type, it hurt to write, it hurt to hold my phone…and hurting hurt because I don’t like not doing anything.

But, I went to physical therapy, then went to complete the process of buying a new car (more about that soon), then came home and gladly fell into the arms of my prescription drugs and had a comatose rest of day.

Tuesday – More physical therapy followed by more drugs and more non-movingness. Yeah. Like, how exciting is my life right now.

Wednesday – I had no choice. This was the day I had been dreading all week, as I lay in bed trying to find my comfortable spot. Ali had a spelling bee that morning, and I had agreed to be a guest lecturer at a class at my alma mater, UAB, about social media later that afternoon. I was to be out most of the day, it was raining, it was exactly three weeks since the accident, which also happened on a rainy Wednesday when we were going to a school event.

The children and I both experienced PTSD. Nobody really wanted to leave the house, but we had been studying for that spelling bee since school started – you can’t just flush that kind of spellinvestment.

So we weaved our way through the many car wrecks all over town and made it to the spelling bee miraculously unscathed, albeit a little stressed, where Ali had to confront her already-existing-before-the-wreck weather fears as the spelling bee faced the window where the rain was pouring and the lightning was flashing. At the biggest thunderclap she turned around and yelled “Hey Mommy can I come sit with you?”, but she settled back down and adored rocking out spelling, placing first in her age group and 4th overall (meaning that she was spelling against 8th graders and discovered that she has her mother’s competitive genes.)


We went home for a short time where I took narcotics and muscle relaxers and a very short nap, all of which are fantastic preparations for guest lecturing at the college level.

And I survived.

But not without ending the day with the worst pain yet.

Thursday –  But Wednesday was not worse than Thursday. Pain got to all-time high, including pulsing down my arms for at least an hour every time I accidentally raised one hand over my head.

It’s really hard to not raise an arm over your head. Hair in your face? Too bad. Want to switch a floor lamp on? Nope. Wash your hair? That’s gonna hurt.

Plus my dysautonomia was quite severe, giving me the gift of blacking out and feeling exhausted due to having laid around for 5 days. Activity is vital to my life, and car wrecks ruin that. I was not happy.

I Whine-Texted everyone I knew. And continued to whine-text the ones who didn’t try to cheer me up or tell me it could have been worse. (If you want to be the future recipient of whine-texts, I’m applying for backup candidates.)

Then I ended the day by not falling asleep until 3am from the pain.

Friday – Fridays are apparently my marathon health days. The Friday before I spent 10 hours trying to get answers, and this Friday ended up being a seven hour journey. I started the day at physical therapy, and my PT agreed that my worsening pain after a week of near-constant rest definitely qualified as a trip back to the doctor and another ask for an MRI.

I dropped my kids at my parent’s, took a meandering route to attempt to find a doctor that was working and could see me, and ended up seeing the rudest, angriest, most awful doctor I’ve ever experienced.

(And I’ve experienced a few.)

BUT. He ordered an MRI. Very angrily. Because apparently, according to him, Obamacare has made it nearly impossible to order an MRI without all types of insurance denying it, which is why I couldn’t have one the week before – I just hadn’t had enough good, quality, long-term, debilitating pain yet to deserve to know what was causing it.

I drove straight to the MRI clinic, where they told me my insurance had not yet approved it.

I sat in the waiting room, picturing Malia Obama in the back of a dusty unused bedroom at the White House, looking at me through a crystal ball, analyzing my length of time in pain, and deciding my fate.

Finally, Malia approved my MRI. And they took me back to that tiny Star Trek Coffin, slid me in the tube, and provided me 15 minutes of an Introvert’s Techno Rave Dance Party – without the dancing.

That evening, my regular doctor called me with the results. The MRI showed that I have muscle spasms, pressure on my spinal cord fluid, two bulging discs in my neck, and one tear/rupture in a disc in my neck. It explained my pain, but there wasn’t really a way to easily fix it. No surgery – just more physical therapy…and perhaps a lot of time.

In one of the kindest acts anyone has ever offered me, he prescribed me steroids.


I took two that night despite the fact that I knew there was a good chance I wouldn’t sleep. I FELT HUMAN.

I watched TV with Chris, comfortably and in focus, and slept fine.


…But I was so mad that it had taken someone almost a month to offer them to me.

Saturday – Saturday was the most awesome day that ever did exist.


I felt energetic, I wasn’t in pain, and I felt like a normal human being.


I even dared pick up my camera for the first time in a week and a half.




I took a one mile walk around Aldridge Gardens.



Then went on a 4.7 mile hike at Oak Mountain State Park with my friend Kristin and her daughter Taylor.


(Because they’d never been and she asked me for directions and I couldn’t let her get lost with her precious daughter.)


(But I made Kristin carry my camera backpack. Because I’m high-maintenance like that.)



My steroid, Decadron, was my Saturday Superhero. And, as my friend Renee’s doctor-husband pointed out, Decadron even sounds like the most fierce of superhero robots that there ever was.


I went to bed Saturday night blissfully happy for having lived, for having gotten my heart rate up and helped my dysautonomia, and with hope for a brighter future of pain-free normalcy.

Sunday – Chris, being the enabling husband he is, suggested I skip church and go on another walk while I was feeling good. But, I felt like I should be a decent deacon’s wife and go to church for the first time in weeks.

But oh. I should have listened to my husband. Chairs in Sunday School and pews in Church are not made for neck support. Or for propping up one’s legs to take the pressure off of one’s neck.

I did not make it through Church. My neck and shoulder pain was back and it was angry at me. And Decadron had failed me.

I mourned deeply for Decadron only giving me 36 glorious hours and wondered if taking, say, ten Decadron, would bring me back my happiness.

(I’m never going to become a narcotics junkie, but Decadron? If it consistently gave me days like Saturday, I’d totally be strung out.)

So that’s where I am. Not exactly knowing when I’ll be out of intense and pretty constant pain, going to physical therapy three times a week, taking so many pills that Ali’s eyes widen in judgment, and still trying to homeschool my kids, be an accountant, provide my children with food and basic interaction, and not go crazy.

Don’t get hit head-on in a car accident, kids. It’s not much fun.

20 thoughts on “A Brief (or not) Summary of the Week.

  1. I am so, so sorry. I’m glad you at least had a great Saturday, and I’m glad you have specific reasons for all the pain you’re in. I’ll be continuing to pray for complete healing.

  2. Gosh knows, life just sucks sometimes. Glad you’re mending and hope you continue to improve. Sending good thoughts your way. Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.

  3. Do you remember Vioxx? Probably not, because you’re just a few years older than me and really I shouldn’t have had to use it either. Anyways, your reaction reminded me of myself when I first took it. When I was in high school (and junior high) I used to have really bad knee pain all the time. My mom was convinced that it was because she let me wear ankle weights and ‘work out’ when I was really young, my brother was convinced that I was aging backwards, but I was probably just one of those kids who had really rough growing pains. (This is so much longer than it should be.) But point is, my senior year of high school a doctor prescribed me Vioxx and I felt like that. It changed my world! I could move, I could run, I could do so many things and my knees weren’t in pain! Then like a year later it started killing people and they recalled it…and I grew out of my growing pains, so all’s well that ends well I guess.

    I really hope you start feeling better soon. I know how much it sucks to be trapped inside, and cameraless. :(

  4. I volunteer for whine-texts. Or wine-texts. Or wine while texting. Wait no. Narcotics don’t mix with alcohol. Skip to the chocolate pairing instead. Also, PTSD sucks. After our horrible we-should-be-dead wreck I had it bad. Along with muscle relaxers and anxiety meds and PT for undiagnosable pain (only remedied by having a baby but I’m not sure that will work for you). It sucks. And I will agree to that any day. I am only grateful we didn’t have kids then. That adds a new level of suckiness. I’m sorry. Are the kids physically ok now? Can’t wait to hear about Flexi’s sequel.

    1. Thank you! Yes, I’ve been wanting some more chocolate cake…
      And yes, no babies can be had to relieve my pain, and I’m not sure I’d trust that theory on one suggestion! :-) That’s a long term solution for what I hope is a short term problem!

      Yes, the kids are fine now – they were sore for a little over a week, but have quit complaining. Of course I had them totally checked out by their pediatrician. I’m super thankful they haven’t had any long-term effects, other than the PTSD, which surprisingly hasn’t been nearly as bad as it could be.

  5. The picture of downtown is amazing!

    If you still have my number feel free to whine text me. I still live extra close to Silvertron and do hereby volunteer to make deliveries if needed.

  6. I’ve never had one, but I believe the tear/rupture can take a while to heal. I’m sorry that you’re in so much pain.
    Narcotics make me feel like superwoman too. After 2 of my 3 c-sections I overdid it. I felt great! Could take on the world! I am naive about major surgery, & paid for it later.
    I hope you feel better soon.

    1. I WISH narcotics made me feel like superwoman – only the steroids that one day. Narcotics just make me feel grouchy and sleepy. I’m certainly not the type of person that gets high on them. Too bad. :-)

      Thank you!

  7. Wow, now I better understand when people sue for “pain and suffering”. I always kind of thought it was bogus, but it sounds like you have grounds for it! So sorry you are going through this. Hope things are back to relatively normal soon.

    1. Oh yes – it’s crazy painful. I’m trying to not go into as much whining and detail as I could just so my blog isn’t completely unbearable, but if anything I’ve downplayed the pain a good deal. I’ve pretty much, except for Saturday, been in continuous pain (at varying levels) for two weeks straight. The painkillers and muscle relaxers only curb it – they certainly don’t eradicate it. And because of all of the bed rest I’ve had to do, so much of my life has had to just stop. I totally get it now, too.

      But today has been a better day, so I can only hope that I’m on a healing curve!!

  8. Yeah, I agree with comment # 7 :: You are REALLY hurt, and , BADLY ! Meds can mask the pain, but you have to be aware that is ONLY WHAT THEY ARE doing : MASKING IT !!!! NOT CURING !! SO, PLEASE be smart, when feeling better , and do not over do !!!!!!!!!!!! NOT yelling at you; ; I just feel terrible for you about this whole thing, and want you to feel better , SOON !

  9. oh man! Having worked at a chiropractors and now working at a hospital, neck/back pain is the worst. And it’s such a medical mystery as far as healing. Mind you, I have no medical training, just a lot of observation. I hope you’ve found something to help you heal. I’ve been loving your photos on IG and hope that it means you’ve had an upswing. You + your new camera=amazing!
    btw – adorable photo of Ali. My daughter has that competitive gene too. It’s awesome when channeled properly. ;) Hope the lack of comment about it means the kids are healing okay from the accident.

  10. Guuuuuuuurl. Oh honey. I love you, but babe, you shouldn’t have gone out and done so much when you were high on the steroids. Even though you feel great, the injuries are still there. You take it easy, young lady! *finger shaking* I’ve also learned that lesson the hard way.

    And your MRI saga…okay, I’m going to do my very best to not get on a soapbox here. But the whole dance between needing to get a test or a scan done and the insurance company deciding if you get to have it pisses me off to no end. Here’s how it SHOULD work in my opinion: Doctor says you need an MRI. You get the MRI. And the insurance company takes your doctor’s word for it and keeps their mouths shut and pays up.

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