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Thanks, everyone who mailed me after the last back pain post. Those of you who are suffering, I hope you soon get better and remember: never give in.
Here are a few more gadgets I've tried and found they really help:
The best relief is always a good philosophy. Read Meditations by Marcus Aurelius. He was a Stoic philosopher as well as a warrior emperor. Stoicism isn't stuffy, nor is it straight-laced - it's a sensible outlook and method of self-help as useful today as it was for Marcus, campaigning 'among the Quadi, on the River Gran'. 'Meditations' is the most peaceful and reassuring book I've ever read; I return to it often - and you will, too.
‘Pain is never unbearable or unending, as long as you remember its limitations and do not indulge in fanciful exaggerations.’ - Epictetus, quoted in 'Meditations'.
I’ve just recovered from an arse-kicking bout of ‘flu which laid me low for ten days. Flu and suchlike are quite serious for me because I suffer from chronic back pain and if I don't keep up my physio exercises it gets worse. It was caused by a car crash in 2002 that was, of course, entirely my fault.
Saturday August 17th, 2002 – and it is coming up to the fifth anniversary of the crash, a split second that changed my life more than anything I ever worked for, any plans I ever intentionally made. I remember one of the doctors saying that it would take me five years to recover – and yes, I am getting better quickly now – but he didn’t tell me that was because I would need five years to find people, treatments and ergonomic furniture that would help.
There are quacks and cons aplenty, but real help is difficult to find.
I’ve just been out to the DIY shop and bought two 5 cm blocks of wood, shoved them under my desk which brings it up to 80cm high. Only people who suffer chronic pain will realise what an epiphany that is, and why it is worth blogging about. For the first time in five years I can write without being in pain!
During that time I had to borrow many thousands of pounds to spend on treatment and furniture; far more than the bloody car was actually worth. I have been through two beds, four mattresses, three office chairs, three mice and three keyboards, two gyms, three specialist physios, acupuncture, X-ray, ENM and codeine – and if anybody else says I should try yoga I will punch them in the mouth. Back pain became the central factor of my life: clothes, transport, everything is based around it (I have to wear jogging pants - yum :-( ). Now these blocks of wood raising my desk cost £2.89: and that is the price of happiness. If I had tried them 5 years ago my life would have been very different. Note to everyone out there: don’t be as ignorant as I was about ergonomics.
Saturday August 17th, 2002. About half past ten in the morning. Heading clockwise on the M25, Heathrow junction and dialling on a mobile I ploughed straight into the back of a queue of stationary traffic in the fast lane. Using a mobile while driving is illegal now. Good. It wasn’t then but it should have been. I was rushing to go house hunting which just shows what the pressures of the modern world do to the human body.
If you hit a stationary car at just under 60mph your arse leaves the seat. As far as I can calculate there is a pressure of about 6 tons on the body.
If you are driving a new-ish car you’ll mostly be OK. I was flying along in a beloved 1.0 litre H-Reg Polo equipped with zero safety gear. The seatbelt cutting into my shoulder but especially my hips caused soft tissue damage which I eventually found a term for: ‘sacroiliac joint dysfunction.’ Please don’t drive while using a mobile. It’s not big and it’s not clever. Thankfully I didn’t hurt anybody else.
The motorway ground to a halt, letting us limp to the hard shoulder. My car was a lot shorter, but still running. I wired up its front and tore off the bits hanging loose. Although it lacked coolant, radiator and lights it takes more than that to stop a VW. I drove it home. The worst thing about that day was the reaction of male drivers passing by a girl in a miniskirt and crop top, sitting on the verge by an absolute wreck. I was beeped and whistled at, leered and mooned at; more insult was added to injury that day than I care to remember. The next day I couldn’t move at all. By the end of the week I was able to walk to the end of the street… after 10 days I could manage two streets… and after a fortnight I had discovered codeine and went out and made off with my sister’s car.
I had just moved to a new town and started a new job, so as you can imagine those were interesting times. The MOD employers and my peers were wonderful and very understanding, but I couldn’t even get the civil service system to yield an adequate chair. Also, the codeine created problems of its own, but that’s another story.
I’m glad to say I don’t drive as maniacally as I used to. The way I used to carry on, I escaped any number of much more severe accidents, from Sutherland to the Breckland; from the Breckland to the Brecon Beacons. There you go: those who live by the car die by the car. I used to be a speed freak, yes; but these days I’m only a demon some of the time. I’m on my fifth car and I intend it to last. I have been sobered by realising how much I could have achieved if I’d been well.
So, from my own experience I can recommend:
I’m getting better. I can see the end of the tunnel and, by god, the light is good.