Tag Archives: back pain

Eating To Prevent Inflammation

When you have a back injury like the one I’ve been dealing with the past few months, inflammation is an issue. Ice packs and anti-inflammatory medications can help, but the more I’ve read the more it seems that diet also plays a part in keeping inflammation low.

I started reading about this after a conversation with a friend who has been having similar problems the last few years, and while the list of foods not to eat was pretty intimidating, I was glad to see that a lot of what I already do to reduce the amount of sodium I eat every day also means there are a lot of issues I’ve already avoided.

Of course, there’s usually room for improvement, but the foods I couldn’t eat overwhelmed me pretty quickly. Luckily, some more research turned up this image (from Dr. Andrew Weil’s website – check it out, the graphic there is interactive), which reduces things down to an easy-to-read pyramid – and to be honest, the foods all look really good!

dr. weil's anti-inflammatory diet

I like that the list includes both wine and chocolate.

Later, my friend also sent me this pic, which outlines a handful of foods that are good for lowering inflammation. Good news again – I like them all!

Reducing arthritis and inflammatory pain

Aside from the raw apple cider vinegar, I would be totally down for throwing all these in a curry.

It’s not often that you find a diet that both might help your health AND looks easy to stick to — more or less. (Excluding dairy is turning out to be my big stumbling block, as I take my coffee with milk and am a big fan of cheese). I thought it was worth posting this information here. If anybody else has tips on good foods or their experience with trying this kind of diet to help reduce inflammation, I’d love to hear about it.

Raising Spirits – The Balancing Act

This has been a really rough ten days or so, and today it all got to me. A friend observed that I didn’t seem to be doing very well, and the dam broke, and I spilled my guts (and not a few tears) about just how not very well I’m feeling at the moment.

In about two hours, I’ll be going to see the doctor who sent me for scans on Friday, at which point I’ll finally have a better idea of exactly what happened at the base of my spine to cause the agonizing pain and aggravation I’ve been dealing with for the last week and a half. (Well, okay, the pain was agonizing for the first few days, since then it’s been unpleasant but manageable). And after that, at least I’ll have a better idea of what happens next.

Because it’s the not knowing that wears at you, worrying the corners of your mind like a baby gumming on the edges of its soggy, drool-stained blanket. How bad a problem are we talking about here? How long will it take to heal? What preventative measures are going to be necessary? Is this a good time to see if my insurance covers lipo? How much change is going to be demanded of my lifestyle going forward?

But seriously, that last one is tough. I’ve had a couple of major issues over the years – issues that have demanded lifestyle changes that, as long as I’ve put into practicing them, have never come to be completely natural parts of my routine.

The first time I had a major injury was in my mid-teens. Sure, I’d gone through the kiddie stuff – a baseball bat to the forehead as the result of a softball teammate’s carelessness after she struck out and tossed her bat away, more burns than I can count from campfires and roasted marshmallows – but the first long-term injury I sustained in my life as a writer was that pesky hazard of the profession, repetitive stress injury. Related to, but thankfully not, carpal tunnel syndrome. I had tendonitis in my hands and arms for a good four years. This was in the early ‘naughts, I don’t think people had realized yet what a scourge tendonitis was going to prove for kids who’d never learned either proper typing or proper posture.

Since then, I’ve run into my share of aggravations – I can’t wear high heels anymore thanks to tendonitis (AGAIN!) in my feet, and I’m more or less resigned to wearing sneakers and orthopedic inserts for the rest of my life. I have to be very, very careful about the foods I eat and their sodium content, and have been trying to keep my weight down for years by eating less, though my level of success with this typically wavers with such variables as the phase of the moon and whether my roommate asks if I want to order a pizza for dinner..

Having my back get fucked up is somehow beyond all of this, and yet it’s all related. I think about back injuries and slipped discs and I think about visiting my grandfather in the hospital after his back surgery, or my dad after his back surgery, and my stomach does a flip-flop. From what the osteopath I saw last week said, it sounds as if she’s hopeful that physical therapy will help me strengthen my core muscles and bring me back to a place where I don’t have to worry that sitting up in bed is going to cause major injury to my spinal column. Which, you know, is the kind of place I’d like to be.

I don’t know if you pay attention to horoscopes – I’m not a huge believer, though I find them interesting – but I’m a Libra. The scales. In other words, balance. One of my challenges in life has always been finding balance, whether it be in academics, a social setting, my work, the time I put into friendships and interests – that false dichtomy of “all or nothing” is something I fight against believing in with almost every decision and every course of action I make. I want to write a novel? Watch me put everything – everything – else in my life aside while I focus on that one goal and churn out a first draft in a month. I want to save money? I’ll go four days without spending a penny then suddenly lose it and blow $50 on knick-nacks and nail polish at TJ Maxx. I don’t just put all my eggs in one basket – I throw the kitchen sink in there, too. And then I get upset when the eggs get crushed and the kitchen sink gives someone salmonella.

This started out as a blog about feeling miserable and trying to pick myself up, but the longer I type the more I think maybe it’s actually about living with more intention, focusing on what I really want, making those things the center of my actions.

I want to be writing. To do that, I need to be healthy and strong and clear-headed and aggressive with my belief in my work and myself. But I also need to keep reminding myself that I’m only human, and I have my limits, and the pace I kept at 15 is of necessity going to be a much different pace from the one I keep at 32. I have to practice holding on to my successes, and not just working blindly to keep adding to the pile. I have to remember that I’m not going to a few classes then writing at night – I’m working a full-time job and then writing at night. And that the people in my life deserve at least a little bit of my attention, too. 😉

I titled this blog “Raising Spirits” because I’m pretty down in the dumps at the moment, and I needed somewhere to write a bit about why, but also because this particular situation is inviting more than a few ghostly whispers back into my life: decisions from the past, questions about the wisdom of paths I’ve chosen to take, questions about blaming myself and my actions for what winds up happening when I get injured. Talking about it last week, I confessed that I was terrified of sitting up and having something else snap out of place, and moreover that I was mad at myself for being worried about something so irrational.

“But that’s how it happened,” said my listener. “So that isn’t irrational.”

It was comforting. And true.

One of the problems a person faces when anxiety is a part of their everyday life is figuring out what occasions actually warrant a certain level of concern or panic, and which ones don’t. In this case, I had convinced myself that my fear was irrational — wasteful, pointless to use energy being concerned about. To hear that this wasn’t the case was helpful to a point, but still didn’t solve the problem.

All that’s going to solve this problem is time. And physical therapy. And somehow finding a way to drop a few more pounds and improve my posture, both when standing and sitting.

Having a total freak-out is not going to solve the problem. But denying myself a small freak-out, letting off some steam before coming back to the situation with a clear head, isn’t going to help either. Somewhere in between, the right level of freak-out for this situation exists.

It’s just up to me to find the balance.



If you’ve made it to the end of all that, you deserve a reward. Here’s a scene from  Fight Club, with Tyler Durden digitally removed. Poor Ed Norton’s character. Talk about a guy in search of balance:

Fight Club minus Tyler Durden from Richard Trammell on Vimeo.

The Uncomfortable and Painful Consequences of Being a BAMF with Crap Posture


So. That image is, more or less, what’s going on in my lower back right now. I might have been joking about it earlier in the week, but now…well, when something goes from what you think is a pulled muscle to a pinched nerve to a herniated disc in a matter of three days…let’s just say the laughs become more of the “cuz if you don’t you’ll cry” kind of thing. Me and a physical therapist are gonna get real friendly over the next four to six weeks (or more, considering it will be at least a week before my doc even gets all my scans back.

As a friend pointed out when I joked about making a blog entry featuring the goriest photo of a slipped disc I could find (there weren’t any under the search terms I decided I could bear using), I can make this a teachable moment. I can advise other young writers to live a balanced, well-rounded loves that include copious rest breaks when typing and good posture and strong core muscles. So, everyone out there reading this, go do that.

Meanwhile, I will lie in bed wondering how the hell I’m going to get my laundry to the laundromat, because I’m pretty sure I’m out of matching socks and am into the phase of wearing stuff from my closet that hasn’t seen the light of day in ages.

I would start ranting about the costs of health care in this country, but given the medicine my doc has me on, a rant would probably be even less coherent than usual. I’ll spare you.

Anyway – goodnight, fellow BAMFs. Take care of yourselves, because otherwise, one day you too might feel a spasm in your lower back when sitting up and spend the next several days getting increasingly upsetting diagnoses. And then worrying about moving the wrong way and giving yourself lasting nerve damage. Or accidentally severing your spine. Or whatever.

And on that note, to sleep. Perchance to dream…and figure out where to get a lumbar support pillow before my next day at the office. Sitting at my desk. Using a computer. Tomorrow morning.



That really awful painful bulging one? That's mine!

PS – NYC is an awful place to be unwell if you’re single and not independently wealthy. Everything you could take advantage of – laundry pickup & delivery, grocery delivery, taxis…costs an arm and a leg. And that isn’t even counting copays. And if this is all such a problem for me – employed, insured, relatively young – I can only imagine what it list be like for anyone who doesn’t fulfil even those basic criteria.

PPS – if you came here from Facebook, no idea what image this will post with on my wall. Hope it was a good one.

The Unintended Consequence of Writing Like A BAMF

BAMFLast night I got home and lay down on my bed for some quality time with my tweeps. Everything was cool, everything was fine. About half an hour later, I got up to go to the bathroom. As I pushed up from lying down, I could feel something start to tweak in my lower back, and by the time I was standing up there was a full-on spasm taking place from my waist to my left hip. The rest of the night was spent prone with an electric heating pad and an aleve, mostly whining to anybody who’d listen on Twitter about just how much pain I was in. Got some great advice on stretching from some people over there, unfortunately when I tried it this morning I wanted to scream. So I think that’ll have to wait till after this strain/spasm/ache/pull/horror gets better.


BAMF cat is not quite as much of a BAMF as Samuel L. Jackson, but he's trying so hard.

BAMF cat is not quite as much of a BAMF as Samuel L. Jackson, but he’s trying so hard.

And here’s the thing: I know full well this is probably, at least in part, my fault. Because I’ve spent every spare minute of the last two months hunched over a keyboard, and because my day job requires me to sit at a desk at least 90% of the time. I felt the tension building in my back and shoulders – particularly over this weekend’s marathon playwriting session. I even went for a massage on Sunday afternoon when I’d finished, hoping to work out the worst of the kinks. The weekend may have resulted in a first draft, but it also resulted in me being crippled.

Lesson learned: a massage, my friends, does not core strength equal.

I’m consoling myself with the notion that I am a BAMF for having finished all that writing, and I am going to power through this, because that is what a bad-ass motherf*cker does when things get a little painful in the name of a good cause.

I’m also going to look at re-joining a gym when this clears up. Or finding some yoga classes. Gotta get back on the fitness train if I’m going to continue to churn out this much work. But I already know I’m a BAMF at the keyboard, so maybe being a BAMF at the gym is just the next step in the process to well-rounded BAMF-ness.

Wouldn’t you say?