My recovery, progressing slowly since 10 September, is taking me back towards "normal" functioning. I do still feel gratitude for being able to walk (yesterday I wandered five kilometres, which two weeks ago was totally out of reach), to drive a car, I cherish every moment without pain. Yet my life remains far from how it looked like until early September. I still work mostly from bed, sitting is confined to half an hour (which indicates how far I can drive), cycling or recreational sports are still forbidden, but I got a green light for a swimming pool. Same as many household chores and DIY tasks, which have become my hobby. Szlachetna Paczka also involves carrying heavy boxes to beneficiaries. Unknown is the list of activities forbidden to me in the long term. I realise I will have to come to terms with some limitations.
Early this week I received MRI description. The wait was long, yet the very description was duly and comprehensively drawn up. Some excerpts are dreadful (forgive me not consulting a dictionary to translate all the stuff I find hard to grasp in my mother tongue), yet my doctor says it is not as bad as it reads and in a few weeks I will be back fit.
In the third decade of October physiotherapy should kick off, once I get a green light for it, my recovery should speed up. Most likely I will continue to work from home, so my workmates should not expect me to show up in the office until December I suppose.
Although in my off-work lifestyle is not sedentary, hours spent behind my desk have taken their toll on spine, even despite an investment into a fancy (home) office chair I made in June 2020. I still don't know how the problem of having to sit eight hours a day five days a week will be solved. Time will tell. Same about longer travels, for the time being impracticable.
There are moments when I believe everything is going to shape up and moments when I am filled with gloom. If at the age of 36 I have experienced such mobility disruption, then what will my spine by like in three decades? I thought depression would be my biggest health problem, yet with properly prescribed medicines it is under full control and has not broken out even in the last tough weeks.
I slowly tame the thought one day a surgery might be the best solution and the only chance for a normal life. If so, provided doctors recommend it, I will opt for the least invasive method involving shorter recovery. I will not count on the public healthcare. Over the whole life I have saved money also for a rainy day. In case of a downpour I will not hesitate to break my bank to ensure I have superior medical service.
Writing a diary of my disease has reminded me what blogging is about. The notes written now will be a testimony of what I have gone through and how I have felt. I am sure I will revisit those posts several times. The read will hopefully fill me then with appreciation of health and remind me merciful fate should not be taken for granted.
