Monday, November 15, 2010


So, it has a name, this terrible pain -- Costochondritis.   I mentioned this issue last week, but had been following Doctors orders and was much improved by Saturday and fine with my maintenance anti-inflammatory doses.  On Sunday, I did the radical thing of going to church and singing.  I should explain that I come from a family of people who sing and am properly trained.  This means that when singing I take big deep breaths, using my diaphragm and actively am engaging muscles to control the exhale of air. Costochondritis (for those that didn't follow the link) is an inflammation of the cartilage that connects the sternum and ribs--- beginning to see the problem?  In hindsight, it makes perfect sense.  I should not have been singing or resuming picking up my daughter regularly so soon after the double episodes last week (Friday + Saturday).

In any case, by the time I made it home the pain was back as intense as ever. I took my remaining two pain pills and it managed the pain for about 4 hours --- long enough for a lovely little girl's first birthday party and time with friends.  After that, it was pretty much so bad that I couldn't move, breath, or function.  Calls to the on-call Doctor yielded the oh so helpful, take some Aleve.  Right... After a painful night, I went in to the Doctor today and got a steroid shot, a new pain prescription and some lidocaine pads to treat the pain from all directions.  Sadly, I don't feel that much improved.  Brent came home and watched the kids and I sat quietly in the office dozing.  The kicker of this whole thing is that the way to healing is: no singing, no exercise (read yet another period of no Zumba), and lifting M as little as possible as that repetitive lifting of her preciously nearly 30 pounds is one of the suspected causes.

For those that know me, you can imagine this is a very tall order.  It means holding as still as possible and not doing things I love doing.  It means watching my daughter cry when I can't/won't pick her up.  I am horrible at holding still, it isn't in me. That said, living with this amount of pain isn't in me either so here I sit, alone in the dark in the office, holding as still as possible and willing, praying, wishing my body to heal.  Here's hoping that tomorrow I start to feel better again and I promise I'll be doubly, triply careful with my healing this time.

(Yes, I'm dramatic. Can we blame the pain meds?)

1 comment:

Erin said...

My mother has had severe back problems since around the time I was born, so she was not able to carry me around very much. But she did different things instead. When I was around M's age, she explained to me as best as she could that Mama couldn't pick me up and that I would have to climb on her lap myself, things like that. And even as little as a kiddo that age understands, I was still able to pick it up fairly quickly and adapt to waiting until my mom sat down to crawl into her lap. I'm sure there were difficult times, and times that she inadvisedly picked me up anyway, but it can be done.
I hope you can make it work and not injure yourself further.


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