Captain’s Log: Ropes, Recovery, and Residual Pain
Captain’s Log, Stardate 2601.070925
This log returns to the spine of the story—literally. Originally written after a birthday weekend that ended on a high note, this entry pivots back to the deeper medical timeline: the moment fitness collided with old trauma and chronic pain became permanent.
Not all injuries announce themselves.
Some wait.
And then they change everything.
A Birthday Weekend Worth Celebrating
This weekend was a partial birthday celebration. With the kiddo away, my boyfriend and I had actual uninterrupted time together.
It didn’t start perfectly—tech hiccups and Florida rain—but it recovered.
We balanced light adulting with relaxation and ended the weekend with my new Star Trek Trivia board game. It covers The Original Series, The Next Generation, Deep Space Nine, and Voyager.
We’ve watched every Star Trek series in chronological order—twice—and rewatched Strange New Worlds in preparation for Season 3. We are competitive Trekkies.
And this time?
I won.
Small wins count.
Rewinding to 2012: Fitness After Liposuction
After my 2012 liposuction, I stayed disciplined. Workouts kept the weight stable for years.
Even after a serious back injury in 2013.
What I didn’t realize at the time was that damage from a prior car accident had been quietly sitting in my spine. It didn’t surface until I pushed too hard during CrossFit sessions with a personal trainer.
I don’t remember the exact exercise.
I remember coming home unable to lift one arm.
By morning, I couldn’t lift either.
When the Pain Took Over
Urgent Care administered steroid injections and muscle relaxers and told me to schedule an MRI.
The shots restored movement.
The pain stayed.
At the time, I was serving tables. I took two months off to host instead—less physical demand, more recovery time.
The MRI showed herniated discs in my cervical spine.
The nerves controlling my arms were being compressed.
Anatomy class finally paid off.
Months of physical therapy got me functional again.
Pain-free, though?
Never returned.
Treatment Paths That Fell Short
Orthopedics offered steroid injections and trigger point therapy. Neither worked long-term.
Pain medication wasn’t offered—this was during the height of the opioid crisis. In hindsight, that likely spared me another problem. In the moment, it felt brutal.
Then came chiropractic consultations.
One office proposed a $7,000 treatment plan and blamed part of my issue on weight. I wasn’t overweight. I have a genetic trait called a buffalo hump—a fatty deposit at the base of the neck common in my family.
The plan was financially impossible anyway.
I walked away.
Living with Chronic Neck Pain
From that point forward, pain became baseline.
Herniated discs healed enough to behave more like bulges—but once muscles learn inflammation, they remember it.
Flare-ups became predictable.
I cycled through physical therapy multiple times over the years—after additional minor car accidents, during stress spikes, during flare seasons.
Ibuprofen became routine.
Until it wrecked my stomach lining.
By the time I underwent GERD surgery in 2023, the damage was done.
Now I avoid ibuprofen completely. Muscle relaxers only in desperation. They made me clumsy and forgetful—dropping things constantly.
When I stopped, the coordination issues disappeared.
That was its own lesson.
Searching for Safer Relief
Medical marijuana helped—but at $100 for 30 capsules, it’s not sustainable.
Clonazepam? Covered.
It doesn’t take a policy analyst to understand why pharmaceutical options remain dominant.
I’ve reduced most daily prescriptions down to two. Everything else is as-needed.
That’s progress.
But 2013 marked the end of pain-free living.
Now it’s layered:
Neck pain.
GI issues.
Gynecological shifts.
Something always aches.
The Emotional Weight of Chronic Pain
Pain doesn’t just live in muscle fibers.
It narrows your world.
Limits spontaneity.
Shrinks patience.
Magnifies frustration.
It can spiral into anxiety. Panic. Exhaustion.
As June Osborne says in The Handmaid’s Tale:
“Pain makes your world very small.”
She wasn’t exaggerating.
Still Moving Forward
The irony?
The photo for this post shows battle ropes and strength training—reminders of a version of me who pushed hard, maybe too hard.
But strength isn’t just physical output.
Strength is adaptation.
It’s modifying workouts.
It’s oiling the treadmill instead of quitting.
It’s choosing yoga and controlled resistance over ego lifts.
It’s understanding that discipline and self-compassion can coexist.
I may never be pain-free again.
But I am not powerless.
The mission continues—just at a smarter pace.
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