“James, I was reading in your bio that you had a catastrophic back injury. How do you manage to work lifting things in a supermarket and fight? I’ve had a bad back injury myself and am interested in how you have adapted.”
-Ishmael
In my early twenties I had a typical L4 L5 lateral herniated disc, which caused extreme pain in the left leg. For a few years I had to lay down every 20 minutes at work and elevate my leg to relieve the pressure. It actually felt like my foot was going to explode. I toughed it out until the back pain was just a dull constant ache and the foot pain was occasional. I did not realize I was setting myself up for a really bad back injury.
I found out years later, from an excellent massage therapist, that I had corrupted my musculature to compensate and was essentially walking in a damaging fashion, attacking my own hips and spine.
By age 32 I was working six jobs and training twice a week, convinced that pain tolerance, tenacity and ferocity was the key to all success. I had, by this time, accumulated severe injuries to my thoracic cage from boxing, which involved the back further.
One night, while brushing my long hair before going out to work, after my standard 45 minute sleep, I sneezed. The L-4 L-5 disc ruptured into my spinal cord, dropping me—it was both legs now. I managed to drag myself to work later that night and crawl through the work load. For the next two weeks I worked, getting slower and weaker by the hour, until finally I failed in my attempt to pick up a gallon of milk. I was able to view the MRI of this injury, which was fascinating, like looking at yourself after being processed on a giant deli slicer.
I spent the next 7 months recovering, losing all my material assets [including my wife’s truck and my son’s car] in the bargain, and went back to work still unable to walk correctly in order to save the house from being taken. The company I worked for wanted to get rid of me for being injured, so I was assigned to work the largest frozen food section in Maryland, requiring me to work 10-12 hours a night freighting 5-10 pallets of frozen food on my own, Walking 8 miles home every morning helped my back heal.
My massage therapist kept working with me for free, mostly as a muscular rehab coach. She identified where the spasms were, told me what muscle to stretch in what order, coached me on all my motion, and I actually got stronger on the job. The Olympic boxing team doctor who designed the first MMA gloves—Doctor Estwanick—published a paper on lengthening muscles. I followed the program, and within 6 months was fighting again.
For me fighting is relaxing, so even when I showed up for sparring barely able to walk, by the end of two hours of stick-fighting and boxing, I would be bouncing around to such a degree that black fighters called me a slick boxer.
As far as lifting at work, I can’t get more than 80 pounds off the ground and will approach anything over 20 pounds as deserving the calculation of an assault on the summit of Everest. I have studied my chronic conditions and found them mostly due to imbalances in my activity, so I lift from both sides, just like I fight from both sides. I changed the way I turn cans to face the label out when my elbow ligaments began tearing on me.
I never ever bend at the waist when lifting, ever.
My limitations in fighting are that I cannot kick, cannot take kicks around the hips, and cannot torque my hips in a grappling situation. As an all around fighter I am brittle and as a boxer well beyond my years. In weapon fighting I’m still someone to be reckoned with by all but the top few men, which is simply a testament to the value of relaxation, timing and experience in the weapon arts over sheer physicality. I once wanted to fight 1,000 stick fights and now know that is impossible. Last year I was thinking 700 was doable, but now believe I have perhaps 20 fights left in the tank, so probably won’t hit that. What I don’t want to do is fight my last fight. I plan on continuing to spar, and fighting maybe 3 bouts per year, hoping that I never hit the bottom of the well so that when the DOJ finally sends its hoodrat horde to wipe out my neighborhood I can take one or three of the bastards with me.
What has happened, is that I’ve been able to become a good sparring partner, with my ego long dead and my finding the relaxed state in combat. So currently, my ambition to be a good sparring partner and my desire to be able to continue walking and writing [which requires a healthy back] have come together in such a way that stick-fighting is now ironically my physical therapy.
The main thing I’ve learned is that physical activity is the biggest must for the person recovering from injury. The hell of having your muscles rot off the bone while you are weak and in pain is something I do not want again. For me, continuing to work as a grunt and fight has been an exercise in getting to know my deteriorating body and adjusting its use along the path of least resistance.
Good luck with your own aging bipedal device, Ishmael.
Join the club. Yes intervertebral disc injuries in the lower back, particularly the L4 L5 disc, are the torture of the damned! The L4 L5 disc of course is where all the nerves branch out from the spinal cord into the lower body and legs. So the innards of the ruptured disc typically press on any number of the nerves, sort of like when the dentist's drill hits the nerve in your tooth. Except that it never lets up! Or else it can press hard enough to cause complete numbness and paralysis to part or all of the lower body. Had two surgeries to repair ruptured discs and relieve the nerve impingement there myself. Probably lucky I can walk without a cane. Although I had to be able to run and do push-ups and sit-ups to keep my Army position and enjoy the opportunity to get blown up in some foreign land. Not in too bad a shape now. Although if I was ever given the opportunity to choose between having a disc rupture again and losing a leg, I think I would lose the leg. At least if you are missing a limb people feel sorry for you, whereas if you have a back injury people just think you are a faker because they can't see any visible injury. People will still expect you to move their refrigerator for them. Hey, we need the assistance of someone with a strong back and a weak mind. Sorry, don't have either anymore. LOL! The only time anyone ever expressed sympathy for my condition was when some colleagues invited me to go out on a golf outing with them. I politely declined on account of having to give up golf following my second back surgery because the twisting motion of hitting a golf ball aggravated the nerve impingement in my leg and thus impaired my ability to run during physical training. The look of shock on their faces was astonishing. The idea that an injury like that could force someone to give up golf clearly horrified them. LOL!