Where my torso and my waist meet I have done something to my body which has made it very difficult to move.
This is what people refer to as ‘throwing your back out.’
I wish I could throw my back out and start again with a new one.
Getting in and out of chairs, cars and bed requires careful thought, precision planning and lots of prayer.
I’ve heard it all: it’s your weight, it’s a repetitive move injury, you have a history of back issues, you need to exercise more, you don’t get enough rest…blah, blah, blah.
My back hurts. My back spasms. I can’t move. Reasons for why I’m here are meaningless to me right now because these reasons will not make the condition go away. It takes a few days and everything tends to adjust, move and find its rightful place.
But for now, I am miserable.
Yesterday was a completely wasted day where all I did was watch TV and eat Chicken Soup (somehow my wife thought that Chicken Soup would make me feel better). While the soup was tasty, made with love and full of hearty veggies and delicious chicken breast, it did nothing for my back.
This morning, as I’m typing this, I am hunched over in an office chair finding the only relief I can find after a night of bengay, icy/hot patches and sleeping on my back (a position I abhor) to see if I can stretch this ‘condition’ away.
One of my Yoga practicing friends suggested a pose to stretch my back (this pose entailed throwing myself on the floor, arching my back and getting into a perpendicular fetal position while stretching each leg out into the air for periods of thirty seconds), but she did not appreciate the pose one of the fingers on my hand took at her suggestion.
As we were delivering a beach umbrella and a cooler we had borrowed from our friend Maria yesterday, Maria looked at me accusingly as Yvonne carried the items out of the car and I just sat there – ‘Sure, let Yvonne do all the work while you just sit there,’ she admonished (yes, I like this word and no, I don’t have a persecution complex). I was going to explain about my back but I just stayed silent. That would just give me an opportunity to resent Maria and focus my negative thoughts on something other than my physical discomfort.
Later in the evening, after exhausting everything that streaming Netflix could offer for one day, I went to bed with the sweet fragrance of menthol emanating from my lower back.
With ear plugs in place, covers upon me, I proceeded to visualize the pain and the muscles and willed it away.
This morning, I woke up and it’s still here.
Apparently, I am going to have no choice but to rummage through my garbage.
I need to go find the back I threw out and see if it will take me back.