60 is the new 80 - ouch!

60 is the new 80.

At least that’s how I’ve felt these past few weeks due to crippling back spasms. The pain has been so stunning that I now understand why maturing individuals have a tendency to overdo drugs and alcohol.

As my 80-something aunt advised me just yesterday, “There’s a new ache somewhere almost every week.”

Most days, I’m a pack mule, lugging and toting the stuff I need without the benefit of a hand cart or other aid. If something has to be moved from here to there so be it. Size and weight be damned.

My spine, having been disrespected lo these many years, has developed a love/hate relationship with me. Years ago, it began bulging discs in retribution and for the thrill of the pain it could inflict --- chronically, thank you so very much. (I don’t know why we can’t work together but nooooooooo.)

I physical therapy. I Pilates. I yoga. I work on my core. Nothing’s ever enough for those discs, that spine, and the back that claims them.

And now this.

When it kicked in, I thought it was just a strain that would go away. It wasn’t. It hasn’t.

I’m waiting not so patiently now for an anonymous insurance company representative to weigh and measure the value of helping me over the cost savings to his/her employer by denying a referral to a pain management specialist.

I’m also on my second tier of pain killers and muscle relaxants since the first round of recommended drugs didn’t even hint at relief.

Eight years ago on the tail end of menopausal symptoms, I was suffering from such severe pain that I couldn’t focus to work. In there somewhere, I happened to have some strong alcoholic beverages, strictly for their entertainment value I assure you, but the relief was life altering. It was then that I understood what alcohol could do for those with chronic pain --- physical and emotional. After that, I was far more understanding of those “tipplers” among us. Finally understanding that some aches and pains simply do not go away because we demand it or swallow a couple of over-the-counter pain killers. Some pains are here to stay and perhaps foretell the future. Just the thought of that makes me ache.

Later, when the bulging discs added sciatica to their repertoire of painful entertainment, I was reminded of this earlier lesson. Although the pain is always with me, it seems best treated by movement and exercise rather than alcohol, which I continue to reserve for enjoyment…and escape ;-)

So, here I am again in total disagreement with my back. My online medical sleuthing offers nothing but hydration (I’m about to drowned already), heat and therapies out of my reach until someone else feels my pain and approves a therapy from some heavenly position of power.

These times don’t try my soul. They try my patience and tolerance for pain. They also remind me that there are more trying times ahead. The aging process naturally includes the slowing and breaking down of the body. While I can’t predict what’s next (my body tends to keep its conniving evil plots close to the vest), to protect the quality of life, I have to commit to pushing back at the body that tries to bully me into submission…and take a shot (of Tequila) from time to time. ;-)