You know life’s been tough when you celebrate being able to walk 20 minutes without pain for the first time in 8 months.
I’ve always been an active person. And by active, I mean I like fitting as many possible things to do in my day as humanly possible, and then a little bit more, because I like to feel that I haven’t wasted a minute of my awake time. And I love walking, always have, I used to walk to relieve stress, I used to enjoy walking for hours non stop until my legs begged me to sit down. And then the hours I was able to walk became 1 hour, then 30 mins, and then 15 mins. I started getting increasingly bad sciatica in my right leg, and I was told 6 months ago I have a serious problem with my back. It was no real surprise because of the deteriorating situation, but I’m glad a friend was with me when I received the news, because I still cried my heart out, felt miserable, thought it was the end of the world, then went on a shopping therapy session. I thought that was it, it couldn’t get any worse. I was wrong. The pain had been getting more frequent, it got to a point where I couldn’t walk for more than 2 minutes at a time, but at that point, I used to wake up without pain, I used to sit down without pain, and if I was in pain I’d sit down and I’d be instantly ok. And then one day 5 months ago, on a Thursday afternoon, I remember I was chatting with a friend when I felt intense pain creep down my leg as I was sitting down, and it hasn’t really left me since.
At the beginning of it all, I spent 5 or 6 weeks in agonizing pain. I was lying in bed most of the time. Lying down on my tummy or on my back was wishful thinking because I couldn’t straighten my leg, and I still can’t do that for extended periods of time. So I was lying down on my side with my legs curled up because that was the least painful position I could find, but I was still in pain and I couldn’t even concentrate on effortless things like reading. It sounds weird to say it, but for 5 weeks I watched my life pass by and couldn’t be bothered doing anything about it. “You should find something to distract you, a hobby” – people were constantly telling me. Yes, I should. I should be doing a lot of things, and it’s easy for everyone else to give theoretical solutions such as “you should stay strong”, and “don’t think about the pain”, but the reality is different. The reality is that you just can’t think about anything else than this pain which is consuming you. I lost my appetite for food, I stopped enjoying music, I lost interest in my passions, and that feels really empty. I lost interest in just about anything. Everything and everyone became secondary, the only thing on my mind was this pain, and wondering when or if it would go away. I would listen to others complain about every day things, mundane issues, and all I could think of was how stupid everyone’s problems seemed. I wished those mundane problems were mine, I wished I could sleep and wake up miraculously cured.
Oh yeah, sleep. What’s sleep? For 2 months I didn’t get much of it. I had to teach myself to sleep on my side, and if that wasn’t difficult enough, I woke up from ridiculous pain if I moved even as little as an inch while sleeping. So forget turning to the other side, that was almost unheard of. I had to force myself to get out of bed to visit my friends and family, and whenever I did, I spent most of that time lying down on their couches. Same shit, different location, but at least I was out of the house and talking to people. An elderly I met once at the pool told me: “Those who haven’t experienced severe sciatica or any form of chronic pain do not know what they’re missing out on”. I can’t explain just how true that statement is, because it’s not just about the physical pain, it’s all the side effects that come with it. Let me walk you through mine.
At first I felt frustrated and angry because I wasn’t even 30 so how could I not walk at all and why did I need a wheelchair at the airport? I felt alone because I thought no one could possibly understand the pain. I felt extremely emotional thanks to 2 months of anti inflammatory drugs and pain killers. I felt like crying all the time, whether from pain or from despair I wasn’t sure. I was trying not to act irrationally but failing miserably. Sometimes it felt like I had no control over what I was doing, saying, thinking. I felt no shame, I would sit down in the middle of the road if I needed to or cry in the middle of a packed tram when I needed to. I felt like such a mess that I didn’t recognize myself any more. I couldn’t even go for a walk to relieve the stress. I felt I needed to write it all down, so I wrote, and I wrote, and I wrote. When I started working again, I felt so tired at the end of the day that all I wanted to do was lie down and do nothing as soon as I was home. I knew I needed to stay positive, but it was so difficult at times. It was even more difficult to smile when people were constantly telling me “Oh but you’re so young to have back problems!”, or “I haven’t seen you happy in a long time”, or “Whatever you do, don’t go down the road of depression”. What do you say back? The truth is, I was feeling depressed, so I just nodded while attempting a smile.
When this whole thing started, I was back in Lebanon. My family got so stressed, they didn’t know what to do, they wanted me next to them, and out of sheer love they stressed me out even more. All I could hear was my family stressing about how I would live by myself back in Melbourne and asking me to move back home. All I could hear were people telling me what I should do over and over again, and I found myself saying things and trying to make decisions just because I wanted to be left alone, and then all of a sudden I realized that it wasn’t the right time to make decisions, so I stopped. In reality, all I wanted was to be in my comfortable bed, in my own bedroom, lying down in silence with no one around, but it was difficult for my family to understand how I could prefer that to being next to them during a difficult time like this. So to my family back in Lebanon who worried about what I was going through, made sure I ate my favourite dishes so that I can mildly enjoy eating, drove me around everywhere, made me laugh, made sure I got out of bed once in a while so that I don’t go mental, made sure I went to the pool to get the necessary exercise, took me to the doctor’s, stood in the ridiculously long line for me during Christmas time just so I can buy a book, for all these little things and a lot more, I just want to say: THANK YOU, you are the best, and I couldn’t have been in a better place when this all started.
And to all my friends, those in Melbourne and those overseas who, since this whole thing started, offered to pick me up from the airport at a ridiculous time of the morning when I came back, came over and visited me when I could barely move, drove me to the doctor’s, held my hand when I heard bad news, travelled all the way to Brunswick and cooked for me, filled my fridge with groceries and feel good snacks, brought me entertainment, to those who heard nothing but bitching over the last 6 months, to those handed me tissues when I cried or picked up the phone when I called out of the blue, to those who called me, sent me emails, texts, checked on me regularly to see how I’m doing, to those who made sure I was semi regularly out and about even if in pain, to my new friends who met me when I was at my worst and revived my love for food and cooking, to all those of you who always make sure I have a seat wherever we go, to my pilates instructor whose shocked face I will never forget when I first walked in to the studio and who has been nothing but encouraging every time she sees how determined I am to get better, to all those beautiful people in my life I would like to say THANK YOU. You have all contributed to the fact that I’m smiling again today, even if I still don’t smile every day. You have all given me reasons to get out of bed when I sometimes just wanted to stay in there and never leave. To all of you who have repeatedly said “I’m sorry I feel helpless, I don’t know how I can help you”, being there with me and even just asking about me was most of the help I needed. And then there’s the handful of people who, 4 months later, are still right there asking if I need to go for a coffee whenever I so much as show any signs of distress, you are my heroes.
We all go through difficult shit at one point or another, and people deal with things differently. In my situation, this is what it came down to:
1. Dealing with the emotional side: As bad as the pain was and still is at times, the most difficult thing for me wasn’t even that. It was the feeling of loneliness, the feeling that no one could possibly understand the extent of what I was going through, no matter where I was in the world. What did help me though was talking to people who had experienced the same thing, who knew exactly what I was feeling, who gave me hope and helped me believe that things will eventually get better.
2. Learning to reach out and ask for help: I’ve always been the kind of person who thinks of others before myself, who runs to help when someone calls, and who offers help even when others don’t ask. I was never the kind of person to pick up the phone and say “I need help”, maybe because I’m too proud, too stubborn, and I think I can manage by myself. But this time I couldn’t, and I had to learn to pick up the phone and say “Can you come over?” or “Can we chat for a bit?”. And in the end, it wasn’t as scary as I thought it would be. My friends were all there for me no questions asked, and I learned that help sometimes comes from the least expected sources.
3. It’s a mind game: The mind is a powerful tool, and never before had I experienced a bigger war than that between my mind and my body. During the more difficult months, getting out of bed every morning was a battle, getting out of the house was a battle, even eating was sometimes a battle. In the end, I discovered that having something to look forward to helped me win those battles, so I started thinking of little events to look forward to every day, and that did wonders. Even when walking, I noticed that if I manage not to think about the pain, it will take longer to strike. My mind is still in training phase.
4. Shut down and reboot: I think sometimes things happen to force you to slow down and think, to change your habits, to re-define what you want to do with your life. This was definitely one of those times for me, so I slowed down, and I changed my habits, and I had a lot of time to think during my forced bed rest. And when I got out of that, I decided I don’t want to wake up every morning feeling unhappy with what I do every day, and I don’t want to be stuck in a loop. In fact, when I’m 70, I want to look back and proudly talk of my achievements, so I decided to set new goals for myself.
5. It’s all about the small wins: If try to compare my current health situation to what it was like 1 or 2 weeks ago, I wouldn’t feel much difference. In fact it could be worse. Progress has been so slow that I always have to compare myself to 2 months ago. Needless to say I’ve been learning real patience and real hard work that pays off one little win at a time. So I started looking forward to the little wins, such as being able to walk 20 minutes without pain even if it only happens once, being able to do short solo supermarket trips, and being able to swim 2 laps in the pool. Doing this has helped me keep a smile on my face and constantly reminds me that all the hard work is actually paying off.
This has been a draining journey, both physically and mentally, and it’s not always easy to stay positive. It’s only a few weeks ago that I actually started to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I can now regularly walk 10 minutes at a time without pain, I can sit down without pain, I wake up in almost no pain. Being off any kind of medicine allowed me to feel some kind of normal again, and I now actually enjoy being out and about even if I have to be seated most of the time.
