Two of my least favorite things are sneezing and back pain. Thanks to my defective body, I got to experience both this morning. I know I said that I wasnít going to use this website as a place to bitch continually about my ailments, but this is more of a pissed-off thing than a whining, complaining type of thing. Besides, itís the last day of the month, and since a new page is going up tomorrow, itís not like anyone will really get a chance to see this post, anyway.
The thing is, I got a defective body, and Iím pissed. Seriously, these things are supposed to last for like, whatósixty to a hundred years? Mine hasnít even made it to thirty, itís already breaking down. Thatís the problem with American-madeóshoddy workmanship.
Granted, some of this is my fault. I mean, if I bought a car and then started pouring chocolate syrup into the water reservoir because I liked the way it smelled, I wouldnít bitch and moan when it broke down, right?
Right. But what if I decided, after abusing my car for a while, to fix it back up, get it in good running condition, make it worth showing again? Iíve been exercising, Iíve been eating right, Iíve cut way back on my drinking. And what happens?
I woke up this morning, a little tired because itís stupid early, but feeling pretty good, despite that. This whole waking-up-without-a-hangover thing is pretty amazing, to tell you the truth.
So I stagger out to the kitchen, where my princess has already made coffee, and I pour myself a cup. I sit down at my desk, and let my eyes adapt to the dim light of the kitchen before turning on my monitor and blinding myself. I sip my coffee as I wake up.
Through all of this, Iíve been moving very slowly and very carefully, because although my back hasnít really been hurting lately, itís always a low-level threat. One wrong bend, and the pain will flair up like a rusty blade shoved into my kidney.
For example, like if I was walking to my kitchen, going for my second cup of coffee and was immediately overtaken by one of those crazy sneezing fits that Iím always bitching about.
The first sneeze, I felt a small snap in my lower back. The second sneeze sent a sharp pain shooting through my back, starting somewhere in my upper thigh and stopping just under my shoulder blade. All of them after that just elicited a string of curse words spit out between clenched teeth.
The crazy thing about back pain, is itís just so painful. Unless youíve been debilitated by it, you canít understand. Because you hear, ďIt hurts,Ē and you think, ďYeah, Iíve been hurt before, I know how that goes.Ē But itís not the same.
Iím gonna try to give an appropriate description, but Iím still probably falling short. Have you ever smashed your finger in a car door or something? If not, or if itís been a while, Iím going to need you to go do that right now, so youíll understand where Iím coming from. If you donít have a car door, I guess you can use like a desk drawer or something, but it probably wonít be the same.
Okay, now think about a paper cut. Not when you first get it, but maybe a couple hours later, when you go to eat a French fry or whatever, and you get a little salt in there.
Now combine those two pains. Now imagine them inside your body, and imagine that you get that every time you try to do anything. Leaning over to spit toothpaste into the sink? BOOM
Turn your head wrong? BOOM
There will be no laughing, no standing, no sitting, no nodding, no nothing. About the only thing Iíve done that comes even close to alleviating the pain is to rub Icy Hot all over the place and then stay perfectly still on the bed. And that only works for a while.
I went to work anyways, though. I opened my warehouse doors, shuffling around like an old man, and I started picking up some of the smaller boxes and putting them where they went. And then I got foolish. I tried to pick up a box that weighed over ten pounds. I dropped it quick, and barked out a laugh, which is what I do when I feel like screaming.
I went in and told one of the guys I work with that I was leaving. I was explaining the situation through laughter, so who knows what he was thinking. I walked out to my car on weak legs and waited until some of the pain had subsided before starting my car and driving home.
Four Advil, a shot of Jim Beam, about a pound of Icy Hot, and two hours without moving. Finally I was able to get up and microwave some eggs. They arenít as tasty that way, but you can throw them in there for three and a half minutes and go back to bed, as opposed to standing there over the stove.
Ate my eggs, threw back another shot, and went back in to bed. This time, I turned on the old PS2, though, and played a bit of video games instead of concentrating on my pain.
I came out to my computer, searched the help-wanted ads a bit, looking for a job that wonít disable me, but after a few minutes, the pain flared up again. Maybe thatís a weekend activity, I donít know.
Because this shit is not right. For a while, I told myself to quit being a baby, to cowboy up. Sissified by working inside jobs, just canít take the exercise, lazy bastard, whatever. But this isnít lazy. This isnít being weak.
This is me not being able to stand up straight or sit down for more than five minutes at a time or lift anything heavier than a pair of shoes. This is me talking about ruining something that I am going to need for the rest of my life.
This is me being worried that maybe I already did.
Okay, I confess: this is me using this website as a place to bitch continually about my ailments.