So shortly after my birthday this year (My 28th birthday. That’s my story and I’m sticking with it). I woke up with back pain. No I didn’t hurt myself that I know of. (I once threw my back out putting on pants) I just woke up and and couldn’t get out of bed without tears and copious amounts of cursing. No one told me that this happens when you get start getting old. I totally want my money back on this whole adult thing.
So anyway, the pain was in the middle of my lower back. Like all the way across the middle. Day by day, I was willing myself to get better. Still operating with my 150 jobs. Still getting up in the morning and downing mega Advil and Aleve a day. But always in pain. I thought I was getting better when the pain stopped being across my whole lower back and just on one side until it starting shooting down my leg. I thought, “Sciatica. I have Sciatica. How old am I?”
But I soldiered on because there really is no one to replace me. I told my husband and my mother that I was hurting but because I still functioned in my daily duties no one cared. Speaking of duty….
Nothing makes you want to end your own life quicker than sitting to pee when you have back pain. I mean the actual process of sitting on the toilet made me contemplate my own existence in this world. Then as I’m sitting. Just sitting mind you. The pain is so excruciating that I start to hum. (I’m sure it was an old Negro Spiritual because that is the only song worthy of expressing the torture that I was experiencing while peeing). But when I had to wipe…. I cried and called out for my husband only to realize he was at work and I was alone. Utterly alone. Desperately and desolately alone. So, I yelled out, “Oh God Help me!!” as I raised up the inch needed to shove toilet paper at my private parts.
I started to feel a little bit better by that Saturday. I just had a bit of a tweak in my back. I felt like I could stretch it out and put some yoga moves on it. I get on all fours and try and go into the Marjariasana or the cat stretch. My back literally said, “Bitch you crazy!” Pain and Spasms hit me in ways I never knew were possible. I was crying but didn’t know it until I saw the wetness on my arms. I mentally slapped myself. Hyping myself up. I reminded myself that I had pushed a baby out of my hoohaa so I could do this. Gritting my teeth, I pushed through that cat stretch and finished several other “cleansing” stretches. All the while crying like a two year old having a break down at Walmart. My child knocked on the door and asked me was I okay. I had to suck it up and wipe my face to tell her I was okay. I didn’t want her to worry. I got up off that floor and went to work. All day long.
Sunday…..Jesus! Sunday! My eyes popped open around 7 oclock. Something was wrong. Was the house on fire? No. My children were okay right? Yes. My husband was sleeping peacefully beside me….so what? Oh it was my back! MOTHERFUCKER! How could anything hurt this much? My ENTIRE back was on fire. I couldn’t move. I just lay there staring at the ceiling. Talking to God. Maybe I could reach my cell phone to call 911. But then I started think it would be just my luck that a paramedic worthy of a Shonda Rhimes show would come to rescue me. There was no way in hell I was gonna let Hunky Captain Save a Hoe see me with my unwashed face and my teeth not brushed. Not to mention my hair wrapped in my head scarf. And I had no bra and no underwear on? Fuck That!
I prayed more…. Then I was blessed with an idea so divine. I could take a vicodin AND a muscle relaxer together. I hadn’t taken the muscle relaxer at all up to that point. But how can I get to them? There were in my nightstand and I couldn’t reach from my bed. I couldn’t get up either. What to do? I took a deep breathe and gave my self the old heave ho off the side of my bed. Let me tell you that wasn’t easy considering my bed is really high off the floor. But I did it with minimal damage. Score One For ME! Miraculously, my husband never woke up threw this whole process. In fact, he didn’t actually wake up until I was trying to get into the pills from my advantageous position on the floor.
Anyhoo, all’s well that ends well. The combination of the pills worked to render me pain free for the first time in four days. I gradually got better. Now I am pretty much back to normal. I discovered it was probably my bed that was trying to kill me and I need to replace it.
Moral of the story…..Getting old is a BITCH!
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