A Solitary Cabin

How It Began

Two weeks ago, I mowed my lawn.

Normally, this wouldn’t be much of an occurrence, but I’m getting older and I have back, hip, and knee issues. I did... something... and pulled some muscles in my back. The next morning, I felt a little tweak and knew I needed to do something to work it out.

Unfortunately, the next three days were taken up by an online class—eight hours a day sitting at the computer. My back got steadily worse.

I saw my doctor by that Friday, but by then I could barely walk. My wife had to wheel me around to appointments and X-rays. I got some prescriptions, and while getting out of bed on Saturday was excruciating, I was at least able to start shuffling around. I thought I was on the mend.

Then I sat at my desk for another four hours for my D&D game. Sunday morning, I couldn’t get out of bed. I couldn’t bend to sit up without incredible pain. Paramedics were called, and I was taken to the ER, then admitted to Grandview Hospital in Dayton.

At Grandview

There’s a lot wrong with the American healthcare system, but the doctors and nurses at Grandview are not part of the problem. Everyone was great. This stood in stark contrast to the care I’ve received in the past from Cleveland Clinic or Summa Health in Akron. Everyone at Grandview was kind, personable, willing to help, and happy to answer questions. Kettering Health has impressed me, and I wanted to give them credit for that.

My first day in the hospital was all about tests: CT scan, MRI, and so on. These were excruciating—even with steroids and painkillers, nothing was touching the nerve pain in my back and left side. I came in because I couldn’t stand, but I had to stand, hobble, roll, and scoot to lie down on the imaging tables. It was rough. The hospital staff helped me as much as they could, but by 9 a.m. that day, I was worn out and my nerves were shot.

After that, it was mostly waiting and reading. I had a room to myself, so I threw on some music and started reading Cory Doctorow’s Picks and Shovels. People came and went, including my wife, who was a saint through all of this.

By the way—the food? Surprisingly good. On the way to the hospital in the ambulance, I got to chatting with Lucas, who was monitoring my vitals. He told me to make sure I ordered the carrot cake. He was right. It was amazing and totally worth the spike in blood sugar.

There weren’t many results shared that first day, but the meds were kicking in more strongly, and I managed a few hours of sleep between vital checks and medications during the early morning hours.

The next morning, the PT/OT team came by to let me know that Neurosurgery would be visiting. I must have looked panicked, because they quickly reassured me that Neurosurgery was just the department name—they handle spinal issues—and I wasn’t going under the knife.

When Neurosurgery arrived, they reviewed my scans and gave me an assessment. It turned out I was dealing with two problems. First, something in my SI joint was inflamed, which is what was causing the "10 out of 10" pain when I tried to shift or stand. Second, my left back, hip (piriformis), and thigh muscles were clenching up to protect me from further injury, and they’d strained themselves in the process—causing tightness and cramping when I tried to walk or twist.

Solutions

The team recommended a numbing agent and steroid injection directly into the SI joint. That sounded terrifying at first—needles near the nerve that’s already screaming? But they kindly explained the procedure: the radiology team would numb the area, administer the injection, wait a few minutes, and help me get back to my room.

Everyone worked hard to get me on the schedule, and while lying down for the procedure was rough, the injection itself wasn’t bad. And when I stood up afterward... I felt nothing. It felt normal. I nearly cried with relief. For the first time in days, I could sit up and move around a bit.

After the shot, Physical Therapy came by and asked me to try standing. My muscles were still tight and sore, but after a few minutes, one of the PTs brought in a walker. I tried it, and within two minutes, I was able to straighten my left leg and hobble around the room. Progress!

So ended the second day—with results, relief, and hope. I was happy. My wife was relieved. I’d be able to get around the house, which was a huge improvement.

Heading Home

By the third morning, I was metaphorically climbing the walls. I’d finally gotten a decent night’s sleep, the SI joint pain hadn’t returned, and I really wanted a shower. That wasn’t going to happen, since I couldn’t stand on my own yet—but my wife brought me fresh clothes and some Huggies wipes, and I made the best of it.

I was discharged around 2 p.m. My wife picked me up, and we went home. It took a bit to figure out how to make the house more accessible, but thankfully we live in a small, single-story bungalow with no stairs. That helped a lot.

Since then, I’ve made good progress. I’m up and moving, stretching my leg, and using the walker to get around. After a couple of days, I needed it less around the house. I got a little overconfident and tried to move around outside without it—almost fell, but caught myself. I did manage a short drive to locate my upcoming PT clinic (about 45 minutes away), and a quick walk into a Starbucks. That wiped me out.

This morning, I’m sore—but it’s Saturday, and I don’t need to do much. After getting the kinks out and taking my meds, I cleaned up the kitchen and made a spinach, onion, and feta frittata with coffee for my wife and me. She’s been through a lot too, juggling all this without missing work, so I’m trying to help her relax over the long weekend.

Side Effects

When I’m left to my own devices, with no responsibilities, I tend to get introspective—and there’s been a lot of that over the last week.

• While in the hospital, I didn’t check the news. After getting out, I’ve decided to keep that up. If something important happens, it’ll find me through friends or social media. I don’t need to bathe in the chaos.

• I’ve really enjoyed talking with people—hospital staff, folks around town. I’d gotten into the habit of avoiding engagement out of fear or stress. That stops now. I’m going to make small connections every day.

• I’m done overloading my brain with nonstop tech content. The books, podcasts, newsletters, feeds—it’s too much. I want that brainspace back for creative, fun pursuits. Enough doomscrolling and problem-chasing.

• I’ve loved writing this, and I’ve loved reconnecting with my RPG groups. I like people. I’m tired of fear and isolation. I’m going to keep choosing connection.

• I’m going to stand up from my desk more often. Sitting all day made this worse.

• I think I’ll hire someone to mow the lawn. I kid—but seriously, I need to respect my limits and take care of my body better.

• Most of all: I’m going to listen to my body. I thought I was doing okay, but the tests told a different story. It’s time I face that honestly and take it seriously.

Thanks for attending my TED talk. Wishing you a great weekend.