The Back Pain Chronicles

It's been a rather stressful few days here in Tokyo. I arrived after my 10 hour flight from Seattle with a considerable amount of lower back pain, and for the subsequent two days the pain had gotten worse and worse. There came a point yesterday morning where I couldn't stand without debilitating pain and literally being unable to hold back tears from it. My mom took me to the orthopedist at a local hospital, and they took an x-ray, and his diagnosis was that of "lumbar spine disk degeneration, almost reaching herniation." He suggested we do an MRI to be sure, but I didn't want to have any more medical charges outside of the official purvue of our insurance coverage and also wanted the specialist I'd be working with to get better to be in Seattle to run the rest of the tests, so he prescribed some pain meds (100mg of Loxonin and something called "Mucosuta" in Japanese, which apparently protects the stomach lining from the pain medication) and some Adofeed to put on the affected area, as well as a corset to wear when the pain got really bad.

There were probably a handful of factors that converged to make this happen now, as opposed to sometime between age 30 and 50, which is when most people who experience disk degeneration begin to feel symptoms. (Apparently upwards of 30% of the population faces this issue.)

1) I am genetically predisposed to having a weaker lower back. Specifically, the doc called out that people of Asian descent tend to have less of a curve in the lower spine, which means the spine can handle less stress. (Note that when he shared this he said, "We see a lot of 'half' folks come in here; they often get the worst of both worlds with their genetic heritage. A lot of foreigners have a more curvacious "S" in their spine, which is why a lot of them have that great gaijin ass." *Makes a motion with his wooden pointer thing around my x-ray indicating where said awesome gaijin ass should be* No joke.) My dad had back problems when he was younger as well, so I've got it coming from both sides of the family tree.

2) I haven't been excercising or taking very good care of myself for the past year.

3) The 10 hour flight from Seattle--apparently sitting is the position that puts the most weight on the disks at the lower spine. My flight home was, quite literally, the straw that broke my back.

So I'm not ashamed to say that my initial reaction was a great deal of fear and many tears, shed in front of a bewildered-looking nurse as she fit me for the corset. The doctor's response to my question about whether I'd get better was a noncommittal and rather cold, "Naka naka muzukashii desune," which translates to, "It'll be quite difficult." A phone call to my dad while we waited for my pain meds at the pharmacy and subsequent trolling of various spinal health websites and talking to the doctor friends I've garnered over the past six months I've spent in the healthcare industry have painted quite a different picture, for which I am very grateful.

The current thinking (in the U.S., anyway) seems to be a few days of rest--with pain killers/anti-inflammatories to get control of things--followed by a return to normal activity and gradual strengthening of the back and other muscles using a physical therapy program. The idea is to start with low-impact excercise and gradually get to the point where one can do light strength training to maintain the muscles. Both the docs I talked to have said there's a very high likelihood of recovery given a program like this... And, there's also my dad, who has managed to do something very similar for the past three decades and kept the pain to a minimum level, something to be managed but not debilitating. Interestingly, sharing my plight with many friends over the past 24 hours has lead to many of them sharing stories of people they knew who have conquered similar problems. All in all, I am feeling much more hopeful and encouraged than in the initial minutes after the doctor shared his perspective while pointing at the ghostly image of my maltreated spine on the x-ray film.

Three observations to be made here:

1) Don't underestimate the value of a 2nd or 3rd opinion when it comes to what a doctor tells you. Even if the initial diagnosis ends up being correct--it might not be, given he wasn't basing it on an MRI--I'm still appalled at the way the doctor I saw chalked up a recovery to the sentence "it'll be very difficult." Sure, he told me to go swim, but his attitude was profoundly pessimistic, and in stark contrast to what I've read and discussed with other folks over the course of the past day. S/he might be a doctor, but that s/he is still an individual with a personality and outlook on life that may or may not jibe with yours.

2) I'm not one to believe in a predetermined genetic destiny, but knowing what ailments your predecessors have experienced can help you actively manage your health. I know, this seems stunningly obvious, but how many of us 20-somethings realy pay attention when doctors are asking about our relatives' medical histories? I certainly haven't been, and have learned my lesson the hard way.

3) Putting one's health first every day really does matter, because it's all the little things that add up to make a huge difference. It wasn't some dramatic injury that caused this recent episode for me, but sitting (sitting!!!) on a plane after years of not doing anything to keep my body healthy.

I think this whole thing was a way for my body to tell me that the recent trend wasn't going to cut it. As my friend Heather said, it feels like "the most intimate betrayal when our bodies give out on us"--but at the same time, I was the one who was betraying my body on a daily basis. Part of the reason I'm posting about this is so that I can go back and read it and remind myself of how painful an ordeal this was, precisely so that I won't let this happen again.

Finally, f*** the doc and his doomsday attitude--I'll be damned if I'm going to let this get in the way of my life.

Thanks to everyone who's been listening and sending comforting words. It really means a lot.