Channel surfing on the radio en route to the airport for an out of town chef gig I’m dreading, my wife and I heard this snippet of conversation “Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.” Timely and poignant and will serve as my mantra moving forward considering my last 2 months have consisted mainly of pain, making it hard to do anything else, so I didn’t. There’s only been a handful of nights where I’ve slept over 4 hrs without waking up yelping and moaning.
I’ll never look at a bed the same way.
Lumbar rediculitis with a 2mm bulge x3 disks and 4mm bulge x1 (L5S1) and two arthritic hips will do that. At least that’s what the MRI says. I say it’s 3’ of lightening running down my ass, hip, thigh, knee (under and over) ending with a sledgehammer to my shin followed by a cheese grater and salt.
It’s worse at night and keeps me up while my beloved eases the way at every turn. With the scent of mentholated balm wafting in the air, by the time I hobble the 10 feet from bed to recliner she’s gotten out of bed, transferred the heating pad, meds, computer, phone, glasses and then sleeps on the couch next to me until the next bout hits and we return to our bedroom with the process repeating ad infinitum, or so it seems. Changing positions helps. Temporarily.
I took to sleeping in our jacuzzi, something my Dr. wasn’t keen on at all.
“Please tell me it was shallow water.”
“I think you know me well enough to know it was filled near overflowing.”
“You are under Dr’s. orders not to sleep in your jacuzzi.”
The epidural he gave me has slowly been taking effect and I’m feeling better but can take 2 weeks and may aggravate it for a couple days post procedure, which has been true in my case- so it got even worse.
Hearing of my situation an Afghan Dr. friend of ours came to our house and slathered me in a traditional poultice of turmeric, sea salt, egg yolk and olive oil, then wrapped me in cling wrap while I sat with a heating pad, 3 blankets and hot tea she made with cloves, ginger, cardamon, star anise and cinnamon followed by an hour in my beloved jacuzzi with my eyes open (for the most part).
Unclinged, my ass never felt smoother.
So again, nothing on the publishing front. I can’t afford not to work and will have to push through the pain and make it happen for my oldest client who’s been 3 things: demanding, loyal and generous. I’ve been doing holidays for her family for 20 years and watched the kids grow up and the dogs and llamas die. I’d already canceled Christmas for another reason and didn’t have the heart to cancel Thanksgiving 2 weeks out. Plus the doc said I should be good to go, but I’m not and is the reason for the dread… and the wheelchair I booked to get me through the terminals.
This auspicious new mantra may help keep me grounded but between the meds and sleep deprivation this routine is getting old. Brain foggy, I’m nauseous, clumsy, confused making multiple spelling errors while typing this and it’s showtime.
Chef/percussionist/writer/reprobate and lover of all things beautiful & delicious, Chef Alan Lake’s culinary career includes East Bank Club in Chicago; Sunset Marquis in W. Hollywood; Izakaya Hiwatta in Ichinomia Japan and legendary nightclub Purpur in Zurich, Switzerland. Working all around the world for over four decades, he's won numerous awards, professional competitions and distinctions. He’s the author of Home Cookin'- The Stories Behind The Food and The Garlic Manifesto- the history of garlic going back to 10,000-year-old Neolithic caves and contains facts, fiction, folklore, myths and legends (besides 100 recipes).
A lifelong musician that plays 70+ percussion instruments, he coined the term “Jazzfood” to describe his cooking style i.e. “solid technique coupled with tasteful improvisation.” He views his food as he does his music and writing and has been known to bust a pout if subpar in any way.
I feel for you as chronic pain is absolutely exhausting.
eats away @ya