You want something to take the edge off.
You can't sleep with the pain.
You can't lie down comfortably with the pain.
It's never ending.
The pain raises your blood pressure.
It hurts no matter what you do.
You look around and realize nobody understands the pain you're in.
They can't see it.
They can't feel it.
They can only see you grimace with every step you take.
They can only see you hunched over as you try to stand straight and walk a few steps.
They don't understand.
They have never experienced what you're going through.
They don't understand why it takes you ten minutes to go to the bathroom.
They don't see the difficulty you have walking to the bathroom.
They don't feel the pain in your back and your joints as you drop your pants and begin to sit.
They don't know the agony you'll be in as you finish your business and try to stand up again.
Nobody's in there with you.
It makes you wish you never had this happen to you.
It makes you wish you took a stronger pain reliever.
It makes you wish you could turn back time.
But you can't change time.
You can't change how you got to where you are now.
You have to deal with the pain.
Your kids try to talk to you and ask you for homework help.
You try to be patient.
You try to be helpful as a parent.
But you get frustrated.
Because you have a short fuse.
Because sitting in a chair is impossible for more than a few minutes.
Next thing you know, you're screaming at your kid.
Your kid leaves the room crying.
You didn't help him.
You didn't accomplish anything, even though you tried.
You feel like crap.
You wish this never happened to you.
You want more pain medication.
But your doctor won't give you any.
He says you'll get addicted.
You understand that and don't want to get addicted to narcotic pain meds.
But you need something to take the edge off.
Every interaction with your family has good intentions but winds up being miserable.
Your kids are fed up.
Now you understand.
What's it's like to be in pain.
Being unable to do your daily activities.
Being unable to walk down the steps pain free.
Let's start with getting out of bed.
You wake up to walk your dog.
He's barking his head off and needs to go out now.
As you get up from bed, your back hurts like fire.
As you twist to a sitting position, the pain shoots down your lower back and you hesitate to put both feet on the floor.
Your feet are finally on the floor and you wonder what will happen as you stand up.
As you begin to walk, you try to remember what it was like walking before this happened.
Before the pain.
It was so long ago.
Not really. It was only a few weeks earlier, but your mind is playing tricks on you now.
You're now at the top of the steps and are holding onto the handrail for dear life.
You know from the past few days that the jolts of electricity shooting down your back will hurt like hell in just a few moments.
You brace for it.
You know it's coming.
You're just starting out your day, but you're preparing yourself for that gust of pain.
Here it comes.
You take that first step down and sure enough, that bolt of pain hits you in your lower back.
It runs up your back, causing you to step very slowly down to the next step.
Your breathing becomes shorter.
Your blood pressure is rising and it's just the beginning of your day.
Everything you do now is very slow and deliberate.
You're exhausted by the time you reach the bottom of the stairs.
You wish there was some medication you could take that would eliminate the pain and eliminate the chance of you getting addicted.
Your dog can't wait.
He needs to go pee now.
He lets it out on the hallway floor with a sad look on his face, knowing he should be peeing outside.
UGH! Now you have to spend ten minutes cleaning up his pee, knowing full well that every time you bend down, you're going to have even more agonizing pain.
You want to shut the world out.
You want everyone to leave you alone.
You don't want to move from your bed for fear of causing you pain.
Pain that never goes away.
Your doctor tells you to hang in there.
He doesn't know what you're going through.
Nobody knows what you're going through.
Let's see what happens when you have to get in the car...
You slowly begin to walk out of your house.
You've got two steps to go down after walking outside.
Those steps are horribly painful.
Then you have a walkway to traverse.
God forbid it's raining, cold and slippery outside.
You reach into your pocket and find your car key.
You know this will be a contortion act.
Your body can't do this.
Pulling open the car door is excruciating.
You must turn your body so your ass is facing the car seat.
Then you have to bend your body forward and enter your car ass-first.
You know that as soon as your behind hits the car seat, you'll be in pain again.
Ok, you're ass is sitting on the car seat but now you need to become an acrobat.
You've got to get your right let into the car first.
You use your hands to lift your right leg, as if you are a cripple.
Then, with great effort you now try to get your left leg into the car.
As you begin to lift your leg, the pain in your back starts and doesn't stop.
That makes you put your leg down and rest a moment.
You look around at the cars driving by without a care in the world.
You look around and see people getting into their cars heading to work without any difficulty.
You feel envious.
You feel jealous.
You miss those 'good old days'.
You don't want this pain.
You want it to go away.
You reach your left leg with both hands and lift it into the car as you twist your body to face forward while holding the steering wheel.
The car door is still open and you dread having to bend over to grab the door handle to shut the door.
Wondering what you did to God to have such terrible pain.
You finally get that door closed.
You start the engine and wonder how long a ride you'll be able to tolerate this morning.
You run your errand and now you must reverse what you just went through.
You arrive home and know the pain will start all over again as you start to get out of your car.
That causes your breathing to quicken.
Your blood pressure begins to rise again.
You brace yourself for the worst.
You turn off the engine and unlock your doors.
And your morning has only just begun.