So much back pain a hot-dog stick from a campfire might bring relief.
My lower back pain started with a couple injuries, including a cracked V1 or V2 – whatever – at least that’s what the MRI told the doctor and he told me, so I kind of try to believe him.
Funny thing; the injuries occurred fifty and thirty years ago. I don’t know which injury caused the most damage, but the 200 lb. man who’s innertube threw him into the air and onto my body while I crested the concrete edge of spillway on the Boise River likely caused some damage. But that was thirty years ago.
The fifty-year injury was from horsing around titty-pinching with my brothers and other bystander victims that may not have taken a liking to the sport. I suspect this was the least injurious, but likely the most fun.
Regardless, like climate change, my difficulties with pain ebbed and flowed through varying degrees of discomfort and nagginess. Until a recent injection or two. After “the injection” a constant alarm buzzed out a breathless message of tension, inflammation and heat. It is descriptive of the thing – the pain that is – to link it to heat. It rose to the level where when I put a pot of water on my back while camping it would boil in a few short and exciting minutes. And you choose to believe whatever you want about this.
Interesting fact: When you’re boiling water from the heat of your back, you really don’t feel like doing much – like moving. Clean the garage? – nope. Improve the yard? – nope. Help others? – nope.
Interesting fact: When you’re boiling water from the heat of your back, it affects those around you. Well, maybe you; but not me. Nobody knew I was miserable and unmotivated. They just continued to love me, care for me, understand me and patiently listen to my groaning. So it never even affected them. At least that’s what it seems to me. Every now and then I do get a hint that they’re saying something different to their therapists though. But what do I know. I do wonder how everything is in order around the house. I guess I wasn’t needed for much. Stuff just happens.
Interesting fact: When you’re boiling water from the heat of your back there is a comfort available: Shoving food and drink in your mouth. Or in this case my mouth. I know, because thirty-five pounds of it stayed with me. I can show it to you. Some of it is still with me.
From the time of the last “injection” in March of “pull in your head and stop breathing” year, until Superbowl Sunday 2023, I saved up thirty-five pounds of excess love-me. Brilliant!
Thirty-five excess “me” on top of twenty already excess me equals — not-so-healthy-fifty. What was even more alarming than adverse health was that I couldn’t practice-draw my concealed weapon from my Urban-Carry holster (could use an advertising sponsor) without pulling my pants down or gouging out some well-nourished extra-fifty flesh while being a good-guy hero. I can’t draw my weapon! That’s worse than not-so-healthy.
I came up with a plan:
- Fix Back
- Drop Weight
- Get healthier
- Holster my weapon.
In my next post, I’ll uncover the options. Here’s a peek.
- Diet – only for those who have no willpower. I have lots. Pass me the pasta.
- Back surgery – Only time I’ll agree to that is if I can’t walk or beat the surgeon off with a cane.
- Drugs – Some of these might be fun on a Friday, but why mask the pot-boiling pain with pharma profits and unknown chemicals?
- Ignore it. Since it doesn’t affect anyone else just – meh.
- Grow bigger man-boobs.