The Road to Recovery, Part 2

Part 1

The neurosurgeon explained to me my options in the rapid fire, emotionless, monotone voice of a guy who came here from China to be a neurosurgeon and really doesn't have time to deal with bullshit like my feelings. 

He points out the MRI results and goes over them with me. The view of the MRI is as if you were staring down through my body from above, so we're looking at a cross-section of spine and, well, me. 

"That was gross. And kind of weirdly intimate," Kat told me later, "I...I saw your meat."
"Baby you're the only one I'd show my inner meat."

The neurosurgeon explained my situation:


The Road to Recovery, Part 1

In August I decided to get serious about my health. Well, semi-serious. Slightly more serious than usual, anyway. Basically I wanted to spend more time exercising and less time having a sodium-fueled panic attack after eating enough Kung Pao Chicken to feed a family of four. So I enrolled at a gym up the street from my house. And it was fun! The gym is one of those "MMA" gyms, but it's less about punching each other in the face and more about bouncing around with fingerless gloves and punching bags while doing some vaguely Crossfit-ish things too.

So naturally after a couple weeks I hurt my back.

At first I thought it was a pulled muscle. My whole back locked up and it was really hard to stand up straight. Transitioning from "standing" (or my best approximation of it) to sitting or lying down was agony. So I rested it, iced it, and popped ibuprofen like they were candy. And it got better! Better enough that I could go back to the gym, where I would promptly hurt it again.

I went through about four months of this before I bit the bullet and went to Urgent Care.