Sunday, September 3, 2017

I Miss Cleaning My House


When I was 24, I was involved in a workplace accident that would change my entire life.

My coworker was improperly operating a motor-powered cart, ran into my back and pinned me to a counter top. At the time, I tried to "walk it off". The pain hurt for weeks. Little did I know, it would never get better.

After a year of physical therapy and evaluations, none of which included a simple x-ray or MRI, I was finally sent to a neurologist. The neurologist demanded an MRI. The MRI showed damage to my spine. Interestingly enough, that's when Workman's Comp decided that I might have been born with back problems and they were no longer going to pay for my treatment.

Bastards.

It's hard for people to understand that I have chronic pain. I hurt every day, but at some point I just got tired of talking about it so I do not complain.  I am usually capable of pushing my body past the limitations in the moment. Not everyone can do that. I can push my body to do things that I shouldn't. The penalty for that is a flare-up of pain that will last weeks, and the inability to do anything the next day. I've adjusted to my new normal. While I am fortunate enough that I can get up and go to work every day, there are things I struggle with every single day.

My house has never been as clean as it was when I was in my early twenties. I used to get on my hands and knees and scrub the floor. I haven't been able to do that since I was injured. Scrubbing the bathroom is the stuff nightmares are made of. I can do it, as long as I accept that I will not be doing ANYTHING the next day and sometimes even the day after that.

I've adjusted when it comes to most things. One thing I haven't made peace with yet? I can't mop my kitchen floor.

It's hard to take pride in the appearance of one's home when you cannot have clean floors.  Maintaining a clean floor at my house means literally begging someone to mop my floor for me, then dutifully cleaning up every single spot, spill, drip, drop and dribble like a maniac because I will not be able to get someone to help me mop it again for another 3-4 months at least.

The depression of not being able to live in a space I feel comfortable in is crushing. At some point, something in me just kind of broke and I developed a very "fuck it" attitude.

Dishes on the counter? Fuck it.

Laundry? Fuck it.

Giant piles of stuff at the end of my bed? You know what to do.

It's really, really hard. I was never like this before and while I've never been a great housekeeper, it didn't take much for me to do the things I wanted or needed to do.  Now, I feel like I can never catch up. My options are to live in it, exhaust and upset myself begging for help, or pay someone I can't afford.

There's a lot of things I wish I could have back. I wish I could do things like ride 4-wheelers again. I wish I had my old waistline back before exercise became torture and I actually was just being lazy. But the thing I want back the most, other than pain free days, is the ability to really clean my house.



No comments:

Post a Comment