Original Post Date--August 8, 2009
Yesterday afternoon I went to see the Wizard (My term for the paincare surgeon). I have to manage my lower back issues with cortisone injections on a regular basis and have come to look at them as part of my "White Hair Experience". After leaving my last company I thought I would turn my physical stature around and try to get healthy, especially if I was going to be standing on my feet all day and managing my own business.
I got serious and had my treadmill visitations back on track (no pun intended). I worked up perspiration on a regular basis, three times weekly, for forty minutes at a stretch. I got so good on a "flat" track that I thought I should move it up a notch and advance to the "Cardio" plateau. Cardio is the workout that resembles a stress test at your local cardiologist (all White Hairs can relate I am sure!). The speed and ratio of incline adjust automatically and the treadmill keeps the pressure on you to work harder. In the end you actually accomplish more in less time. I thought why not.
It had been two years since my last escapade (Can you say "Under the Knife", S1-L5 fusion) with my back and my surgeon had not advised me of any issues except "Don't lift more than 20 lbs!"' So I struck out for Shangi-La and actually felt fairly well after the workout. The next morning I couldn't get out of bed and I knew I had completely and unequivocally screwed up.
Since then they have procured cat scans, x-rays and subsequently the injections or "Trigger Points", as they so calmly phrase the procedure. The last one relieved my pain for approximately 10 days so I dove in again and repeated the process yesterday afternoon (adding my right wrist this time--an old bicycle riding issue that has produced arthritis--Look out Lance). This morning I am sore as the Dickens and trying to smile and interact with my family. It is mostly counterfeited glee.
My body's degeneration started about the age of 48 with my first back surgery (a C5-C6 fusion) and I heeled well enough to throw 300 balls, twice a week, at my Little League's batting practice, within two months. I have had multiple surgeries for my back and my heart since that occasion and almost come to expect the inevitable in this arena. Thank God for insurance (not the Obama kind).
Each year I get more aches and pains, as I face the aging process head on but proudly, witrh a rather aggressive attitude. My brain still thinks I am 30, but "My Body is No Longer a Temple" and it lets me know this tidbit of trivia daily. Wait a minute, was that a brown strand of hair I just saw in the mirror, on the side of my head?