I Sent Mail!
I finally got my paperwork mailed off for my disability application. I also applied for my accessible parking permit. My partner took the day off to help me, and their support means the world. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay their kindness and patience. I try every day to tell them how much they mean to me—I love them all the amounts!
My day started off okay. I slept kind of well—five hours, more or less. But when I got up, I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to get out and about. My sciatica was firing pain down my left leg with every step. Each time I lifted my foot, a sharp jolt hit my lower back. Step. Pain. Step. Pain. I was exhausted before I even left the apartment. But I had a bigger desire: I needed to get something done. Anything. I wanted to be productive.
We drove to the first stop. Every bump in the road hurt. I wanted to urge my partner to drive like a maniac. Weaving around potholes was like being in a Fast & Furious movie. But I didn’t. I didn’t want to sound whiny. Besides, all that movement would probably hurt even more.
Getting the accessible permit was easy on paper. Hand in a form, wait a few minutes, get a temporary pass. Simple, right? But standing there, my back was screaming. For the first time, I asked if I could sit down while we waited. I mumbled it, embarrassed to even say the words. The woman behind the counter said no. It’d be done in a minute. So I stood there, barely processing what she was saying, just waiting for it to be over.
The permit is a good thing. Most of the time, I won’t even need it. Walking across a parking lot, getting those extra steps in, is actually good for me. But on days when it’s raining or snowing? When just standing is brutal? That’s when it’ll help. Still, I never wanted to get one. It feels like admitting something I don’t want to admit. But it’s for the best.
The Great Pilgrimage to the Bulk Food Depot
Next stop: shopping.
I can eat an unholy amount of food. I’ve cut back a lot over the years. I probably eat half of what I used to. Still, I eat way too much. I hover around 215 lbs, give or take 10. I used to be over 260. Lost that weight with exercise and cutting out junk food. When I was younger, I played any sport that let me hit people—football, hockey, rugby. I was really into working out. Had dreams of competing in Strongman after school. So I ate. And ate more. Protein powders, meal plans, cans of tuna to keep the numbers up. But all that stopped when my back went bad.
Now? I still eat like a hobbit, but I don’t burn it off like I used to.
Pushing the cart through the store was hard. When it was full, stopping it without jarring my back took effort. But I needed to push it—it gave me something to lean on. I tried not to slouch over the cart. However, I needed to bend and crack my back when I got the chance. My partner’s feet and back were hurting too, so we both just wanted to get out of there.
Loading the car was another challenge. Picking up items without twisting my back, getting them into the trunk, avoiding bending too much—it all took focus. After a quick stop at the post office, we were finally heading home.
The Final Boss: Apartment Stairs
As soon as we got back, I needed a joint and some stretches. Carrying groceries up the apartment stairs was brutal. Not because of the weight—my legs are strong—but because I’m constantly worried about falling.
Sometimes, my leg just gives out. If I’m on a flat surface, it looks like I stumbled. But on stairs? If my leg gives out, I fall. And when I fall, I fall hard. Last time, I rode my ass cheek all the way down the stairs. Couldn’t walk right for weeks. That was 10 years ago, and I still feel it.
So, getting to the top without falling? That’s a win.
It shouldn’t be this hard to do everyday things. Other people get up and just do them. For me, it’s all about how my back feels. Can I get it done? Sure. But it won’t be when I want to—it’ll be when my body allows it.
And that’s just how it is.
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