Real Life Moment of a Certifiable Crazy Person

I have just checked in to one of my favourite places in the world to visit, Langdon Hall. Langdon Hall is a beautiful country estate that I frequent for afternoon tea and spa treatments. I feel comfortable here, its surroundings familiar to me, like visiting an old friend.  Tonight I was checking in to meet up with Eric while he is here for work. A retreat for me at a place I love and a chance for Eric and me to reconnect. 

I have been so looking forward to tonight and had it been for anyone else I could have planned their night to a tee.  However, because it was my night, indecision has set it and instead of oozing the calm and collected side of me, I have unintentionally presented the neurotic, control freak side.

It actually started with my entrance into the lobby with the contents of my overnight bag not so delicately shoved in and over flowing from the opened zipper.  Next, our room assignment. I am a creature of habit. I like things that are familiar. I knew which building I wanted us to be staying and instead I was ushered upstairs into very unfamiliar territory. My mind is screaming, “No, please, take me to the outer building. I don’t want to go up here.”  But, I just smiled and reluctantly let myself into my room.

It’s all wrong even though it’s so lovely. Wait a minute, where is the TV? This simply won’t do. Back down to the front desk I go to politely be told, “Every room has a TV ma’am”.  Back to my room. I try and settle but it’s just not right. Against the very loud voice in my head I pick up the phone and call the front desk asking to change rooms. What is wrong with me? Dammit, every room is sold out. I resolve that this is the room I’ll be sleeping in tonight (even though when I stand in the middle of the room there is such a loud humming that it is actually giving me a headache. I wonder if I should say something?)

Dinner.  Oh, what do I want to do? Order room service or sit in the cozy pub? I speak with the bartender who is being very kind and accommodating to someone who is clearly becoming unravelled. I decide that I’ll go shower and then come to dinner. He reserves a table for me. Back to my room. Actually, I don’t want to shower. I am only able to come to this conclusion after placing a call to a friend to help me with this hugely important decision. She also recommends that I order a drink even though she knows I never drink. Why would she even say that?

Fast forward to this exact moment. I am sipping my second cosmo and finally feeling at peace with my surroundings.  My new favourite bartender has helped me to order the perfect dinner – a little bit of this and a little bit of that. It’s all delicious and my night has really only just begun.

Just to tie up loose ends, after dinner, I think I’ll go and explain to the ladies at the front desk that I’m not really a crazy person. Or maybe that would seem crazy, I don`t know.

Step on a crack, break your mother’s back

Well, here I lie, flat on my back, unable to function due to the excruciating pain that is radiating down my spine and into my SI joint. I haven’t showered in 4 days. Hello, my name is Lori McCabe and I have a bad back.  Hmm, a bad back. What does that really mean?  I feel like everyone has a bad back these days. It’s even hard for me to have sympathy for them. How bad can it really be?  Let me tell you.

19 years ago, when I was just 16, I had surgery to fix a herniated disc. L5, S1 to be exact.  For the previous two years before that I had lived with chronic, debilitating pain due to the constant irritation of my sciatic nerve.  I saw doctors, therapists and specialists. No one was able to tell me what the problem was. One doctor even thought I was making it up for some sick form of attention.  It wasn’t until I had an MRI that it became clear just exactly what I was suffering from.  Two weeks after that MRI I was undergoing my discectomy.

Since then, I have been able to live without chronic pain. Well, I should say I have been able to live without chronic, intense pain. I do however live with a back that just refuses to give me peace.  It keeps me from picking up my baby daughter in the morning without feeling like my spine is going to separate into two. At its worst, it keeps me home from work for days at a time. A prisoner of my bed, I can only watch the life of my family happening around me. 

My most recent set back happened during a tennis match.  I knew right away that it wasn’t good. I came home, tucked myself in bed and hoped for the best. The next morning, when it was clear that the damage had been done, my husband, clearly annoyed that he was basically going to be a single parent for the next several days said to me, “Maybe you shouldn’t play tennis anymore”.  He went on to remind me how I feel every morning after a night on the courts and that maybe enough is enough.

I then reminded him that I am only 35 years old.  I also reminded him that I have hurt my back walking up the stairs before.  My back problems have no rhyme or reason. I can play an entire volleyball season and never be laid up.  This is the part of having a bad back that seems to confuse non –sufferers. If your back is bad, isn’t it always bad?  How can you play sports if you have a bad back? I guess it can’t be that bad then.  Yes, it can.

Empathy is a tough thing. If we can’t actually see the pain, physical or emotional, that someone is suffering from, it’s hard to understand that it really exists or that it’s really that bad.  I’m not looking for empathy or sympathy, just an understanding that this is something I live with and that when I need support from my family, friends and work it will be there, without judgment because the last thing I need is a pain in the neck.