Nope, I am not doing anything spectacular. Nope, it doesn't happen when I lift heavy potted plants while helping a friend bring her patio greenery inside for the winter. Nope, it doesn't happen while breaking down a huge, thick cardboard box for the recycling.
You want to know how this all happens?
I turn.
That's right, damnit, I turn. I get up from my chair too quickly and pull something in my back right at the top of my hips, in the back of my waist, right smack where I have to bend to stand, lean over, or pretty much just live in general.
I immediately treat myself with naproxen. When it becomes clear that naproxen isn't going to touch the pain, I start raiding the medicine stash. I find meds to treat Floyd the Uterine Fibroid, and I find a huge stash of antibiotics, neither of which will help me. Damn, damn, damn!
In the meantime, I have to get laundry out of the dryer. Yeah, try that without bending over. I have to carry the full laundry basket up the stairs with what feels like a contorted spinal cord then try to fold everything without moving too much. I am in agony.
An hour later the Motrin has sort of kicked in. Either that or I am just healing a bit. Instead of it taking me 25 seconds to unfold myself once standing, it's down to about 18 seconds. I'm going to suck down some more of that medicine before bedtime, which is shortly. And when I wake up, I'd better be cured.
Did you hear me, back?
I'm not taking your shit. Just because I'm middle aged doesn't mean you can go out on me whenever the hell you feel like it. And I'll prove it to you. I'll take more medicine, that's what I'll do. I'll walk right over to that medicine bottle, chew me some of those Super Motrin pills, and march my ass up to bed.
If I can just unbend my sore self long enought to stand up, that is.
Damnit. This totally sucks eggs.
