on the mend
All the "healthy strong back" vibes you were sending my way worked, people. I'm able to stand up and walk without much pain as of this morning. And it's not really so much pain as it is "twinges" or a slight pressure, like something on the inside is pressing down on my lower vertebrae. I can't bend from the waist yet, but I should be able to do several things today that the inability to do over the last 36 hours has been driving me up a tree. Like shower. I haven't done that quite yet--I'm taking things slow, and right now am enjoying another session with the heating pad with the first cup of coffee I've been able to make since Tuesday morning (that's right, I went without coffee yesterday. I think I survived only because I was hopped up on painkillers)--but to shower is next on my list of things to accomplish today. After I take care of that, I may take the rest of the day off--we'll see how it goes. But I'm thrilled--I will be able to pick up my own mail, let Fresh Direct in when they get here, feed the cat by myself . . . I will never take my back for granted again. And yes, I will be working on strengthening it and taking measures to protect it from this sort of injury again. First thing: I'm getting rid of the chair in my office. It's a bad chair. And then I'm going to look into this Directional Non-Force Technique business.
Later that day . . .
Oh, the best laid plans. I'm still OK, but here's how the rest of my morning went down:
at about 10 am, I got ready to take a shower. Just as I was about to turn the water on, my phone rang. It was my friend in Amsterdam, and since we so rarely have the opportunity to talk to each other these days, I took the call. As we conversed, I went into the bedroom and lay down on my yoga mat, on my back, with my knees bent -- basically the position I've been assuming since Tuesday afternoon. Scout was on the bed, just chillaxing.
All of a sudden, Scout jumps down from the bed and something under the bed catches his eye, and he goes into stealth cat mode. I turn my head to see what he's hunting, and it's a GINORMOUS CENTIPEDE. I yell, "bug! bug! bug!" into the phone (not my proudest moment), somehow roll myself up to standing position, grab a shoe, put the phone down on the bed for just a second, and then whack the holy hell out of that thing. Seriously, you guys? That fucker was TWO INCHES LONG. *
And while I don't think I overdid it with the bug extermination, I think I set my back recovery back about half a day. I was able to shower, I was able to walk down the two flights of stairs to grab my mail, but once I got back up the stairs I realized the rest of my day would be best spent in that prone position with the heating pad and all that. So, you know, that's where I'm at now.
* Of course, now I'm reading that centipedes actually eat all sorts of other menacing household bugs, like roaches and, um, those bugs that come out at night to bite you and live in that piece of furniture that people tend to sleep in, those bugs whose name I dare not speak (we call them Voldemort bugs around here) lest I bring them into existence? I would much rather have centipedes than the bugs whose name I dare not speak.
I think.
No, I'm pretty sure.
**shudder.**
If it were a "Death is not an option" sort of choice, then yes. Definitely centipedes.
Please, let it not ever come to that kind of choice.











