starting again, again

It is incredibly difficult to restart a blog after almost 3 years absence.  I feel almost compelled to write a post about what has happened in those three years, how I recovered from agoraphobia, how I got a job (and lost it again) and how my old back problems have flared up with a vengeance.  It’s this which has prompted me to start writing again.

In many ways, my life is very similar to how it was when I was agoraphobic.  I don’t go out much by myself – not because of fear, but because my mobility is poor and the pain starts to become problematic.  Mr D is still my rock, and without him I think I’d be utterly stuck.

My reason for writing again is purely cathartic.  I am in pain, am struggling and have had enough.  Last time my back was very poorly, it helped me to keep a diary of what was going on, partly so that in my meds addled brain I could keep a note of what was happening.    I understand that people don’t want to read blogs which are all moany and pathetic, but it’s what I need right now.  I doubt anyone still has my RSS feed anyway.

My back problem is this:  I have arthritis in my spine, and three ruptured discs.  When my GP told me the results of my MRI scan, she actually apologised for not sending me for an MRI sooner.  She’d thought that my problems were merely a flare up of the old issue.  I’ve been referred to neurosurgery – this was an obstacle course in itself, as I had to be first referred to the musculoskeletal clinic for them to refer me.  In the end they didn’t even need to see me.

My appointment with the consultant neurosurgeon is on 14th May, and frankly I am counting the days.  The pain is constant, and if I try to ignore it, I get this sickly burning sensation in my spine.  I am struggling with most daily tasks – Mr D helps me put my knickers and socks on in the morning, and I need his help getting in and out of the bath.  I hate this.  I hate having to ask for help constantly and feel guilty that my husband works five long days a week – sometimes six – and when he comes home he is faced with a messy house and chores as long as your arm.  While he’s been out, I have mostly done bugger all, and consider myself lucky if I’ve managed to put a load of washing through.

So, I am going to try blogging.  Hopefully I’ll keep it up this time, and maybe it won’t be a constant moan.