Kids out for the count tonight...any fantasies I had about spending the evening taking care of taxes or house things were re-directed by the mess I have for a lower back. Just as well....Dave and I went to see the 1950 movie 7 days to Noon, then out to a nice grownup dinner.
Hobbling around with a cane invites all sorts of bad-back stories and chiropractor recommendations, but few match the symptoms I have, until today. Ramon, our jobsite foreman, had an identical back problem to mine, including the falling-asleep feet. His problem is managed by some sports medicine specialists that I'd already heard of and had intended to contact. He confirms what I'd heard from the physiatrist I'd seen (who I like but only works Tues+Thurs, not often enough to see when the problem happens): probably a herniated lumbar disc.
(For Ramon, it worked out: once his back injury ruled out manual labor, our most excellent contractor sent him to treatment, then to school for project management, and now as a foreman managing projects, is one of our contractor's most valuable and loyal assets. Now that's smart business!)
It intrigues me again that our overall more sensitive child, Julian, acts oblivious to my handicap. But Gabriel is very concerned: "Mom, have you seen a doctor yet?" I remember feeling the same way when I was a kid too: you need to know your mother is completely strong. I remember once when there was a chance my mother would have to go into the hospital for pneumonia, and being utterly, completely, world-shatteringly terrified.
Dave and I had a nice night out in Palo Alto, but I'm quickly reminded as soon as it's time to stand up how restricted my movement is. And anyone who knows me well knows that I don't have much inbetween: I'm either in constant motion, or a complete slug. The in-between of sitting is the worst for my back. Like now. So I'm going to lie down.