Lucky

So it turns out that my body react just as strongly to drugs as it does to hormones. Thank god on that first point, because thank no-one on that second point. Honestly, within 2 minutes of getting cortisone injected into my left leg, the pain had gone down by 30%. By the next morning, 70%. I still can't stand or sit for long, but I at least get 5-10 minutes in before needing a break now. Or longer if I can lean on the table. It is magical - thank you, body, for taking to anti-depressants and steroids like you were meant for each other. I am truly grateful.

Because these medications do not work for everyone. Some people get horrible side effects, or no effects, from anti-depressants, and for some people getting a cortisone shot just means being poked with a needle for no benefit. And to be in that pain, hoping for an out, and not get it? That sucks. My Wednesday afternoon, most definitely, did not suck.

And the same thing about me that plagues me - my sensitivity to pain, to hormones, to having my hair brushed the wrong way - also appears to manifest as an ability to suck up all the happy and inflammation-free goodness these drugs have to offer. So that by Thursday morning, I could finally be stopped in my tracks (ok, it was on my way to flop on the bed, but still, I noticed) by the smell of warm wet summer rain outside, coming in through the window. It was a gorgeous smell that I experienced almost like a flavor, or a taste. So rich, so calming.

I couldn't even write a blog post about how I was feeling because the restriction of having to lay for hours on end paralyzed most of my thinking process. Until I was typing away about it all, once I had most of my range of motion back, I hadn't realized how much just being stuck in one place affected the ease of my thought processes. No wonder I was stuck just playing iSlash on my phone for 4 days. That was it, as far as I could do. Since my body couldn't move, it seemed my brain couldn't either.

Turns out, I'm just sensitive. Which is also what probably got me into back trouble in the first place - not wanting to be sensitive and trying to be the tough chick who could pick up her own damn box of books. With her back and not her legs.

Oops.

It seems like it is time to start thinking of myself as sensitive in a good way. My hands can do pretty well around tired, stressed backs and shoulders. I can remember not only spectacular entrees but the quality of the bread at the restaurant and pick out lots of flavors in my food. I'm a on-again, off-again food snob because I notice those things. It is worth me going to a Michelin star restaurant as much as it is not worth ordering me any booze from even the most prestigious wine cellar. My brain picks up on a lot of cues all around me, and while that can be overwhelming sometimes, at others, it means I'm just caught up in the rapture of a field of grass under a blue sky, or the texture of a ball of yarn.

And if I'm that sensitive to emotions and hormones, too, it is the least my body could do to be open to intervention. Thanks, for that, you.