I am worried about my back. Scratch that, I'm worried about my life with a bad back. How many people have I taken care of with the all-consuming, ambiguous "lower back pain" complaint? Most of them with a fondness for their pain medication. I've seen that lifestyle: checked out, preoccupied, excuse-laden. I am at a crossroads: admit that I have lower back pain and seek treatment, or go on ignoring the little tweaks until they lead to full-on outages. This sucks.
I have the doctor appointment made for next Tuesday. What happens if he finds something? What happens if he doesn't? Will I create a situation in which I will be unable to work? A situation in which I have to get clearance to be a bedside nurse? That really sucks.
But the fact is that in nursing there are a lot of little lifts. It's difficult to maneuver human beings when they are immobile. It's not just the 400+ pounders; it's also the 130 lb old people who don't have good balance that must be turned and gotten out of bed to the chair in order to prevent bed sores. For me, I try to do as much as I can by myself. And lately...there have been times when I peeked out of a patients' room looking for an extra hand and there is nobody to lend that hand. What's worse is that the Powers That Be think that our patients need to be taken care with less help rather than more. That doesn't just suck, that blows.
So those are my fears. Fear is not a good place to be from. I ask the universe for healing, and to allow me a way through this injury. I can't go around it or over it, I must go through it to get to the other side. It will be okay because I know which alternatives I can live with, the ones I can't, and what needs to happen. Universe, hear this: allow me to heal. Fast.
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