Back Home

I’m sitting at home during the day.  A time when I would normally be at work.  It’s the first time I have had more than just a few minutes, alone, in the new house.  I have always loved being home.   The only bad thing about being home now is that I am here because of something going on with my back.   Which brings up a couple of things.   One, I hate saying anything about my back hurting because all medical professionals believe “back pain” is a pseudonym for “give me drugs because I’m addicted”.   My doctor is the exception, fortunately, because he knows of the freakish attacks I have suffered through by dog and deer alike.   But for the most part, the doctors who don’t know me (or you) will assume you are seeking pain pills.   I give you an example:

1.  A few years ago I head in to work.  By the time I get there I could not sit, or stand, or function.   The pain was excruciating.   I had to call my husband to come and get me and take me to the ER.  I sat there for four hours with them telling me to “wait” the doctor will be right there.   There was ONE other person in the ER, for the flu, they saw her and shipped her out.  How do I know?  Because she sat in the same room with me, with a curtain between us.    I sat, and sat, and sat.   The physician’s assistant came in and told me they would not x ray me because I had not had any falls or accidents but they would give me pills so I could leave.  I demanded to see a doctor.   FOUR hours.  I am WELL aware there was NO ONE else there.  They kept telling me the doctor would be in.  I finally called my doctor while lying curled on my side in the ER,  who scheduled to see me, and I left the hospital.  My doctor had to see me, order scans, xrays and MRI’s and then send me to the first specialist to read the MRI.  The man who calls himself a doctor came in and would not even LOOK AT ME.  He asked me what kind of pain pill I was on and I told him NONE.  I told him something is wrong and I need to know what it is.   Giving me pain pills was not going to help.  He asked me what I wanted.  I told him I want to be walking when I am eighty!   Then he goes out of the room to get the MRI reports.   You would think he would have looked at it before coming in.   He looked at the report and said “I don’t know how you’re even walking”.    A few choice cuss words came in to my head.   But I also thought I was going to cry.   Finally, an answer.   Result:   end up getting titanium rods in my back.    I was SO entitled to have pain pills.    I didn’t want them.  I wanted fixed.

Okay, all of that was just an aside.  I felt a little redemption by having a serious back injury.   Lucky me huh?  I proved those SOB’s wrong now didn’t I?  Anyway, my back hurts right now and that just comes to mind.

Back to what I started to write about.   Being home, today, during the day.   When I am normally not here.

Neighborhood sounds.

At my home that I just moved from there is country, and more country.   You can literally hear the leaves falling this time of year.   Yes you can hear cars and other people made noises.   But they are not often, and often muted.   Here I can hear.   I can hear people as if they are standing in the next room, not the next house.   I keep hearing kids.   Why aren’t they in school?  I keep hearing pounding.  I don’t see anything being built.   I keep hearing voices having discussions.   But I can’t see anyone.

It’s like they are here.

I don’t think it’s necessarily a bad thing.  It’s just something I’m going to have to get used to.