Back to Back - Part 3

On January 17th, I had my very first appointment for spinal decompression and I was ready to tackle what lay ahead, but I had no idea that no amount of preparation could help me that whole weekend.

Let me explain. This all has a point, really.

My 13-year-old granddaughter has been involved with Penguin Project Peoria for two years. The first year, she played a lioness in The Lion King Jr.

She fell in love with theater and performing. Most importantly, she found friends. Penguin Project is for individuals with disabilities who might not get the chance to perform otherwise due to their disability. Let me tell you, these kids and young adults defy the word disability and perform, for the most part, flawlessly.

For this year's production, they did the show Something Rotten Jr. My granddaughter landed a secondary role as Portia, the little puritan girl who falls in love with a budding playwright.

This role was no easy feat because my granddaughter, who has epilepsy, had major speaking parts and solo parts. She played to a packed theater for 4 performances and nailed it flawlessly.

Needless to say, this grandma was not going to miss one minute of her solo debut, except there's this thing called leg pain.

Penguin Project website: https://penguinproject.org/

After my decompression session on January 17th, I felt pretty good. Still in pain, but confident that I had found the right treatment. I attended the play that night and was able to enjoy the evening. Walking was still really difficult, but I was determined to see my granddaughter perform with her friends.

January 18th - Since it was Saturday, I was able to rest most of the day so that I could go back to see the play again. It seemed like I would be able to feel like going. With the back brace in place and the ice pack tucked nicely in the brace, I tackled the play again. Still with more walking than I was used to.

January 19th - Today was a major shift and one I had not seen or felt coming. I woke up that morning to get ready for church, and the leg pain was unbearable. I possibly aggravated my back with a lot of labored walking two days in a row, and it was screaming back at me. I got ready for church and began preparing for the service that morning. At church, I play the piano and help lead in worship. We sang a song that morning called "It Is Well". As I was singing the song, I had to stop playing and singing because of the tears flowing down my face. Even though I was singing the words it is well, I knew that I was not well. Here is the song if you want to take a listen:

https://youtu.be/YNqo4Un2uZI?si=0JDyMZCPcpf_dC0r

I was still determined to go to the matinee performance that afternoon to see my granddaughter's last performance.

By the time we were ready to leave for the theater, it's was as if the lower half of my body was saying, no way. We're not doing this again. I was still determined, though, to make it to the performance.

During the intermission, I made my way to the restroom and grabbed a snack so that I could take some pain medicine. Walking to the restroom was extremely difficult, and standing in the concession stand line for about 20 minutes was more than I could handle. I wasn't sure that I was going to make my way back to my seat in time for the 2nd half of the production. All I really wanted to do was yell really loud, "Will someone please help me"? With a double-down grit of determination, I made my way back to my seat to enjoy the 2nd half of the production.

The next day - January 20th - Thank goodness we did not have school that day because I'm not sure how I would have made it through a whole day of intense pain. I did have a decompression appointment that day, and I did manage to make it to my appointment; however, the decompression techs knew that something was not right.

Because I was hurting so much, I went into the office with tears streaming down my face. Side note: once I start crying, it does not stop.

The decompression tech asked what my pain was today, and through tears and a quivery voice, I said, "You are seeing what my 10 looks like". She said that she would hurry as quickly as possible to get me strapped into the harness and get me off my feet. Actually, I think a few of them worked to get me off my feet. Those details are a little blurry. One of the decompression techs gave me a tissue, and the tears just kept flowing.

All of the decompression techs that day were very patient and compassionate, as they are every day.

Once the decompression session was over, I went to the area where you do the laser treatment. Yes, I am still crying, and now at this time, I'm kinda annoyed at myself because I can't quit crying.

One of the decompression techs came over to me and asked if she could hug me because she could see how much pain I was experiencing. I told her that a hug would be nice. After the hug, she kept coming over to me and asking if I was ok.

I wasn't ok, but I knew that it would be well soon. Just how soon? I had no idea, but had hope that soon would not be far ahead.