Kimopolis

If you’ve never had a back spasm, you need to get down on your knees right now and thank whatever God you believe in and start praying that you never do. Back spasms SUCK. They come in all shapes and sizes. With some, you’ll only experience a slight decrease in mobility. Others may put you out of commission for a couple of days. All spasms include sharp, shooting pain that unless you’ve ever been shot, stabbed or cut in half, you’ve never experienced pain quite like it. Luckily, as long as you don’t move, you are relatively pain-free. However, any slight movement could activate the spasm and then, to be completely blunt, you’re fucked. Once the pain starts it increases rapidly and exponentially, spreading like wildfire throughout the affected region and beyond. Your spasm is telling you to get into a neutral position stat or else it is possible to pass out from the pain. You think I’m exaggerating, don’t you? Oh, how I wish I was.

BACK SPASM by Jon Allen

So, yesterday I was changing my sheets, as I do every Saturday, and as I unfurled the top sheet, to facilitate easy and even spreading to all four sides of the bed simultaneously (much like one would see in a laundry detergent commercial), that’s when the spasm hit. It wasn’t so bad, at first, just a twinge to alert me that I’d better take it easy whilst finishing up the task at hand. You see, I’ve had back spasms before and my body didn’t have to tell me twice to relax or suffer the consequences. Apparently, I didn’t relax enough. Once I finished making my bed and placing the 27 accent pillows just so, I thought it best to sit down. I delicately trod into the other room and sat down gingerly at my computer. As soon as my ass hit the leather, I knew this was a mistake. In an attempt to ease the sharp, stabbing pain in my lumbar region, my body began to slowly slump down into the chair, with my butt sliding further and further towards the edge of no return. I was in trouble.

As I started to realize that sitting up was no longer an option, I began to turn my body to the side in an effort to (a.) keep my body from sliding right off the chair and onto the floor (which would make getting back to my bed very difficult, if not impossible), and (b.) to somehow use my upper body strength (ha ha ha) to help lift myself off of the chair and into a standing position. The problem with using my upper body to alleviate the strain on my lower body is that the two parts are attached to one another via my lower back. Using one without using all three is virtually impossible. But, somehow, I managed to make it back to my bedroom and onto my bed. I laid there, face first, my body bent at the waist, and my legs dangling over the edge, my toes still touching the floor, for approximately 20-25 minutes before mustering the courage to somehow swing my lower half up onto the bed. Oh, how I wish I had had the foresight to stop by the bathroom before committing to the bed.

Once I eventually made it onto the bed, I was a quivering blob of physically exhausted jelly. I did not move for many, many hours. At one point, I somehow managed to call my doctor (because dialing 911 and making those poor firemen try and get me out of bed, only presented me with more potential problems: once I was at the hospital, how would I get home? What could they do for me there that I couldn’t do here? The only treatment I could envision involved long needles being shoved into my spinal column and that was not an option, as far as I was concerned). My doctor wasn’t much help, either. I already knew the drill: Skelaxin (a muscle relaxant, and not the good kind like Sam’s sister took in 16 Candles…I do NOT feel funky!), Ibuprofen (800 mg to bring down the swelling), ice packs (on for 20/off for 20), and bed rest. We can put a man on the moon but we can’t cure a back spasm? And here I thought we lived in the 21^st Century.

ANYleechesandblood-lettingwouldbebetterthanthis, here we are, just over 24 hours later and I am decidedly NOT better. The last time I managed to get out of bed was last night about 10 o’clock when the need to pee overtook the need to be comfortable. That little journey, approximately 10 feet, took no less than 15 minutes and was interspersed with yelps of sheer agony and a lot of crying. I am rapidly approaching the point of no return when I will have to make that trek yet again. Good thing I have the bladder of a camel.

Oh, how I would LOVE to just hop out of this bed, brush my teeth and take a long, hot shower. Perhaps make a little something to eat, something that’s actually cooked and isn’t available in a pre-packaged recyclable bag. I’d give my eye teeth just to be able to brush my hair. At least I have my laptop, so I can share all my misery with you. Okay, well…time to face the music, or the toilet, as it were. Wish me luck and if you want to say a little prayer, too, that would be just fine by me.

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