Yesterday marked six months since my car accident out on Rockville Pike. I celebrated by undergoing a series of six MRIs on my neck and lower back. Good news: the neck is healing (although there are still a couple of things wrong). Bad news: my lower back is really still messed up. My doc went over the films with me this morning at physical therapy. There's nothing like finding out at 7:30 on a Saturday morning that back surgery is just about a 100% certainty. Yuck.
What has happened is that the accident caused enough movement in the lower back that bones are pressing on the nerve bundles so severely that I risk losing sensation - and function - in my legs. In a healthy back, you can see this wide canal protecting the nerve bundle. In my back, in long segments of the lower back, the canal is almost completely cut off. Gaaaaah.
I'm supposed to limit my walking and only use a recumbent bike or do water aerobics for now. Seriously, I asked if I could continue taking lunchtime walks, and the doc said, "No way. You really don't want to piss off that back any more than you already have."
I can't afford the water aerobics classes right now, but I'm going to have to figure out how to swing it...
Since I left the doc's office this morning, I've been entertaining the singularly un-Easter-ish fantasy of hobbling down the street and using my cane to "redecorate" the SUV of the boneheaded woman who hit me. Of course, I'll never do it. It just sounds good right now - as does screaming at the top of my lungs. Neither will happen, though. Instead, I'll take a nap, watch an old movie, and *not* go for a walk.
Here's hoping for a back cure in my Easter basket this year...
Hippity, hoppity, limpity, lumpity.