As a wordsmith, you would guess I love words. I especially have had fun with the word cracked. It has so many applications, insinuations and meanings.
You can crack up, but not crack down however you can be a crackpot. You can have a cracked egg, a cracked tooth, a cracked glass, or a cracked piece of food like a cookie or a cracker, which seems redundant somehow. Your car can have a cracked axle, a cracked window or a cracked tire. Outdoors we have cracks in the school yard which smell of tar, cracks in the street which are asphalt or cement or perhaps, as in our town an old cracked brick street. You can have a crack in your home’s foundation. Plumbers can have cracked pipes and cracks in well, other places…you know. They appear to be famous for their posterior cracks.
Right now I am dealing with a cracked vertebra, a bone along my spine. That particular crack has affected my entire life, as I wait to heal and mend. I have been lying down for almost three weeks with brief periods of sitting with a very hot heating pad crammed against my posterior regions and lower back. That’s caused me to fall in love with my heating pad and I was already very fond of it. I’ve had many heating pads over the years of living with chronic pain. This pain incidentally, is not chronic; it is acute. I’m using a Hurrycane to assist me to get into the bathroom. It was recommended to me to stay in the hospital for care but the thought was an appalling one to me. I love my gelfoam mattress, my pets and my family. I adore my cozy old Victorian home and large oversized HD TV. When it comes to passing the time as I wait to heal, old movies are my favorite choice of activity if one could actually call it active. I love needlework and reading but my eyes tire easily these days and my vision is blurred a bit due to all the pain pills I’m taking. If I wish to breathe deeply to avoid pneumonia, move without wanting to vomit then they are my only choice. Pills, pills everywhere and keeping them straight is of vital importance. I make notes and watch the clock very closely out of fear of becoming addicted to these necessary evils. I also suffer from IBS and the classic constipation brought on by narcotics. How do the drug addicts of this world ever go? I must ask one someday. I take a natural aloe vera laxative with Senna, a stool softener and all the cherry juice I can drink. I find it just as effective as prune juice and much more palatable, particularly when it’s mixed with white grape juice.
I find I’m becoming a bit of an expert on osteoporosis which sneaked up on me and caused this, my second fracture of the spine in a year. As fate would have it, I had my first bi-annual injection of Zometa on the day I broke my back. Thank you Lord for your timing, which is always perfect.
For many years we have had a tiny refrigerator upstairs where our bedroom is located and it is now stuffed with items for their vitamin and particular calcium value. Bottles of chilled Ensure, yogurt, cheese and cut up vegies are in full stock. The vegies are complements of my dear daughter because my husband, Jim wouldn’t know the difference between a piece of Kale or a tomato. It is wonderful how Jim has taken to doing a bit of cooking for a guy whose entire repertoire previously consisted of cornflakes or a can of soup or chili. With instruction from me, he has mastered the art of scrambled eggs with cheese, baking bacon and actually made us delicious grilled cheese sandwiches without burning them which is a real feat. They always remind me of the days when we were dating almost forty years ago. He used to go into the hospital cafeteria where we both worked, and met, and ask the cook to “burn ‘em.” In Jim jargon this means not truly burnt but thoroughly melted cheese. What’s a good cheese sandwich if it isn’t melted completely?
It grieves me to admit it, as a retired nurse, but although I am homebound, I choose not to have homecare because it is not of the caliber it once was. I miss in-bed shampoos, thorough bed baths, and those wonderful old triple H enemas which stood for “high, hot and a hell of a lot.” I know from going through homecare with friends those items are gone…long gone and they are the only reason I would have homecare. Today one gets a packaged moist towelette handed to them, a Fleet enema offer and no shampoo unless it’s powdered. Are you old enough to remember those heavenly backrubs that used to be standard fare in hospital care? They have also gone the way of the 8 track tape. The stairs cause me great discomfort followed by a bad day and sleepless night therefore I have only gone down once a week to shower…don’t ask and definitely don’t inhale.
My independent spirit prevails inside this cracked shell and I am thankful for that, lest I crack up. My energy is depleted from all the bedrest and I do try to walk when up, if only a few feet and back again. I am constantly accompanied by my little Yorkie, George who is a wonderful and caring nurse. Jake our other pet is usually downstairs and prefers it that way in his advanced years.
Since Jim is still working fulltime, my days are spent sleeping as well as seeking entertainment and I constantly remind myself, this too shall pass, heal and be made right once again.
I know each of you who have read this far are those who also suffer. My concerns are with you as you share them with me. I have been online far less due to the painful position required so please know you are in my heart and prayers as I know I am in yours.
Happy healing to each of us.