OK, Here's the Deal...

My physical therapy session last Thursday did me in. I'm literally worse than I was when the sciatica first flared up.

Still can't sit, because I seem to be unable to find an un-achy sitting position.

Still can't stand or walk without cane and pain. (The kind of pain that my Dad used to say, "Made ya moan, didn't it!", with a
cute, wicked grin. Sometimes you just have to wonder about football coaches.)

I'm spending all my time in bed, which sounds pretty enjoyable to most hard-working people, and really isn't too bad for the first eight or nine hours. I've been here since 5 p.m. on Thursday afternoon and it's now Monday at 10:30 a.m. You could say that it's the opposite of geo-caching.

My only comfy position in bed is lying on my right side with knees bent and ice packs on the left hip and thigh. Dick has a great icing system going, and so I'm the world's luckiest icee.

I've lost my appetite. I'm blaming it on all these high-powered pain-killers. They also sometimes make me physically ill and unusually sleepy.

Since I flunked physical therapy, Dr. Burke cancelled all of the PT appointments and came up with a new plan. Here's the deal:

1. First we'll re-run the steroid medrol pack. He has confidence it will take away the pain the way it did before. That starts today, and lasts for 5 or 6 days.

2. After the pain is gone, I'll have an EMG on Sept. 11 to determine nerve damage and muscle weakness.

3. If necessary, I have an appointment with a neuro-surgeon on Sept. 21 to check out my bulging disc.

Here's my soft, cuddly present for being sick. His name is Fleming Bearie Steiger. I'm beginning to feel slightly better this afternoon. Some might say it's due to the steroids, but I know it's because of Fleming and Dick.