Call me Quasimodo. As I sit typing this, it's the only relatively-comfortable position I've found in two days. I threw my back out.
I was told twenty years ago that I have a disintegrating disc (or was it two?) and if I allowed myself to get too heavy I'd likely find myself in a wheelchair someday.
I didn't follow up for any further information, because it seemed pretty cut and dried to me.
I have kept my weight down (though I'd like to be a fashion waif) and until taking a job that required eight hours of sitting in front of a computer I used to exercise regularly. My back hurts sometimes, but that's to be expected when I mow the lawn, weed the garden, move furniture or paint five rooms in two weeks.
I refuse to admit I have limitations.
I can't deny it right now. Getting out of bed took five minutes - with one wrong move leading to screaming muscle spasms. I got halfway down the stairs and had to clutch the wall and wait for a spasm to pass. I made coffee (ow!) but couldn't feed the cats. I can't bend. So the cats are hungry and will have to wait until KB gets up.
I will probably spend much of the day on the couch - reading, watching movies, icing and heating my back and praying it stops being so angry.
We wanted to go the county fair last night and I thought I could do it. Stupid. Fortunately for me, the parking situation was such a nightmare we opted out and went to dinner instead. It was a big treat.
I watched everyone around me moving freely, walking, swinging their arms, standing and sitting without a second thought and I had a surprising reaction: jealousy.
I was actually envious of their mobility. I'm usually one of them and I take it for granted.
Perhaps I'm not the kind, loving, compassionate person I believe myself to be much of the time. Maybe I need to get acquainted with the angry little brat who gets mad when other people can do what she can't.
Thanks, back pain. That was very enlightening.
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