sweat.

Ah, how I love the sound of that. Sweat. Work. Effort. It's something that, as an invalid, you either forget or become more obsessed with overtime. I am most definitely the second. I look for ways to challenge myself, to make the next day a sore one. Soreness is earned. It is deserved. And it is glorious.

I definitely earned it today. I went to a Physical Therapist for the first time, and I can easily say it is exactly what I expected, in the most ebullient way possible. Mandy, the PT, said that it is my SI, the same thing that Ron the MT said. I take that as a good sign. Well, heat and electrotherapy and exercises and stretches later, and I'm happier than a clam. Seriously? Who decided a clam could be happy? I, on the other hand, got to do squats today! Low impact, sure, and limited resistance. But I got to do squats! AH!

The massage was super intense. Apparently the SI rotation of my right hip has put my back in a state of chronic spasm, meaning that all the muscles are contorted and tight in ways that they definitely should not be. Chronic spasm, crazy thought, right? But true. Elbows and hands and tears later, I was more loose. It will take a little while to get it less tight/spasmed, but action is being taken. And life is progressing.

Isn't it mahhvelous?

stupendous, superb, never superfluous words of praise!

Today was another adventure, in the realm of back injury. I spent eight hours driving, waiting, getting treatment, getting an MRI, more waiting, more paperwork, etc: but to a great end!

I don't have to have surgery!
I have SO much to be thankful for this Thanksgiving holiday!

stubborn.

Eventful. Sometimes, I wish life wasn't as eventful as it always is. It would be easier to keep up with.

Wednesday, I drove myself up to Prescott and back for my chiropractic visit. It had to be one of the most intense things I have done in months, on my own. You know you're in trouble when Doctor Benson, the never serious miracle worker who has only looked concerned at you once before, looks at you funny and tells you: "Take it easy, hon. Have a safe drive." But I made it, both ways, without incident. A blessing in and of itself. Not being able to walk well the rest of the day made for an intriguing situation at home, but it was to be expected.

My grandparents visited this weekend, too. Unexpected? You betta believe it. I'm still not sure what their excuse was for visiting, but it seemed to me that they wanted to see how fast I could walk, how bad it really was. We went out to dinner with the grandparents and the uncle's fam, Friday night. Such a pity case. That side of my family has never really made an effort to talk to me about anything but the situation in which we are all stuck, but it seemed they went out of their way to make me smile. I must have looked horrible, but dang, how I wish I wasn't the object of their pity. Anyways, the result of that particular visit with my grandparents was a phone call to my dad the day they left. They want me to move to California with them, to be put on their payroll and medical insurance, and see the doctors at Kaiser Permanente, the hospital I was born at.

Shock? an infinite amount. The most prevailing thought that entered my mind: what difference would it make? I haven't made enough progress in the month that I have been home. I know it, my parents know it. I am feeling less pain, on a regular basis, but I can't do anything, and that's not okay with me. My parents are finally making an MRI a priority, so I should have one soon. I pray that I do. After which, we will see a specialist, my orthopedic surgeon, and whatever other doctor can help me on the way. This doesn't mean that surgery is next, but it means we sure as hell are going to figure this out. Insert grandparents: what difference would it make? Would I still be able to see a chiropractor who practices the NUCA technique that I love so much from Doctor Benson? probably not. But medical care, the specialist and orthopedic surgeon and MRI, are probably standard. The only difference I could discern was that of location: with my mom and immediate family, or with my two grandparents.

I'm still not sure what's going to happen next, and it kills me. All of the finances for next semester are covered, I got every class I needed, and while we still don't know what will happen, at this rate I will not be in Provo in January. I keep praying, I keep hoping, and I keep working.

I will do everything it takes to get back. Back to Provo, back to school, back to ME.

You can bet on it.

step.

"When the world says "Give up", Hope whispers "try it one more time"."

Self explanatory.

solo.

Note to self: do not wait 11 days between chiropractor visits when you are trying a recovery path that is dependent on consistency.

Long wait = seriously dramatic adjustment, let me tell you. I think I cried half the way home, on a 2 and a half hour drive. That intense. There was good news too, though! My PT is getting more involved, and I get to start lifting very limited weights, with very specific exercises. Riding my bike, as of right now, is still a no. SO incredibly jealous of my madre, who just went on a ride today. I miss that bike. But Dr. Benson says to keep my back straight, no twisting, and work harder, and I should keep improving. 

Oh! Another thing. My dad's striping business, FMK Construction, LLC, is doing work on the Prescott Airport this week. Guess what that means? I will be spending a minimum of three days in a hotel in Prescott so that I can see the chiropractor every day. To be expected: resting and icing and studying for school and practicing guitar and anything else I can come up with to keep me busy in a hotel by myself. It will be grand. 

If you hear anything odd from me in the next few days, I blame it on being by myself. It makes me go .. hehe.. bonkers. 

p.s. -- OHMYAWESOME. I got three grants for going back to school Winter Semester! Huzzah for all of school's expenses being covered!

p.p.s -- Oh. Hold the awesome. I still can't register. Stinkin BYU. However, I do not let this daunt me. I'm going back, I'm going to be better, and I'm going to kick trash. Get back. 

stride.

a regular or steady course. 

recovery. 

It seems to me that time is reversed, from when we were kids. Remember when a day felt like a whole year? It took forever, and you were always wanting to do other things, and parents seemed so slow. Then you grow up. Now a year feels like a day, and there is never time to do anything you need to, let alone things you want to. Unless you're held in suspension, or stuck in a very steady, controlled course. 

Doctor Brian visit again, today. We asked more questions, tried to figure more out. I've been home for almost two weeks now, and I never dreamed that I still would not know for sure what was wrong, what I had done to my poor battered self. There is only one bit of news. 

I'm making progress. Slowly but surely. And, as for right now, surgery is a no. 

(!!!)

I nearly cried hearing those words. Yet I'm afraid to get my hopes up, knowing that I potentially maybe BETTER have an MRI this weekend. It's all on the MRI now. I have to know, I have to know, I have to know. PT exercises start tomorrow, as well as studying up for school in Winter (a bonus of having my books with me) and more resting and icing. We found my cooler from my knee surgery, which should help. 

recovery. one step at a time. 

steady as the beating drum?