Wednesday, July 03, 2013

March or Die

In Sidney Lumet’s classic “The Hill,” a sadistic sergeant at a British military prison forces inmates to repeatedly climb a massive mound of sand under the blazing North African sun.

I know just how those guys felt.

All right, perhaps I’m overdoing it a little bit, but my never-ending back trouble has warped my sense of proportion.

I went to see a new chiropractor on Monday in an effort to relieve this agony and she told me that I have to do a series of 10-minute walks every day with an ice pack pressed against my spine.

“Don’t lie down,” she said. “You have to walk.”

Ten minutes may not sound very long, but when every step is drop dead painful, time stands still, grabs its crotch, and blows raspberries in your face.

Don’t look at the clock, I tell myself, don’t look at the clock...

Well, of course I’m going to look at the goddamn clock. It’s impossible not to. And I still haven’t been able to go the distance as the anguish forces me to pull up a seat every few minutes. Ducks in a shooting gallery move faster than I do.

It seems ironic that while we celebrate our nation’s birth I’m limping around like one of the guys from The Spirit of ’76.

I wish I could report some improvement in my condition, but it still hurts like a bastard. If I had a dollar for every time I dropped the f-bomb in the last few days I could buy a new spine.

It’s gotten so bad I’ve taken to inventing my own obscenities. When I got back from the chiropractor I was in so much pain that I actually slid to the floor of my apartment the moment I got inside.

Cruel Summer

“Fuck!” I wailed up to the ceiling. “Fuck-a-nola!

Fuck-a-nola? I have no absolutely no idea what that means. It sounds like a small town in Wisconsin or a college fight song. Only I don’t have much fight left in me.

It’s hard to believe that less than a week ago I was thinking about taking a bike tour on Long Island. I guess I should be thankful for holding off, since I would’ve been forced to pull the plug. But right now I’m not feeling the gratitude. I’m just pissed.

I keep hearing references on the radio to the High Line and Lincoln Center’s Midsummer Night Swing, both of which I’d love to see and both of which are completely out of the question—along with just about everything else I’d like to see or do.

I’ve been working from home, but I honestly don’t like it. As much as I loathe commuting, I’d rather be at the office and talking with my co-workers face-to-face instead of shooting emails back and forth.

I feel like I’m under house arrest, except instead of having an electronic bracelet around my ankle I'm bound by pain. The weather reports keep talking about the humidity and warm temperatures, but there could be snowdrifts up to my windows for all I care.

I hear children playing out in the street, people greeting each other, actually doing things. Me? I’m the Mayor of Fuck-a-nola.

The chiropractor is actually open tomorrow, so while normal people are firing up their barbecues, I’ll be having my hips realigned in order to firm a more perfect union.

Now it’s time for another forced march.

Happy Independence Day…

8 comments:

Bijoux said...

Yikes! What a horrible way to spend a holiday. When this has happened before, does the pain slowly diminish or do you just wake up feeling ok again?

Rob K said...

Hey, Bijoux:

In the past the pain would slowly diminish. But this time out it is still as intense as the first day.

Mornings ate particularly bad, I guess because of the hours of inactivity. I don't know what's going to happened with this, but I just want the pain to end.

Ron said...

Well, it's now the 4th, so I'm assuming you're at the chiropractor having your hips realigned and feeling somewhat better.

Shucks Rob, I am so sorry to hear that you're still in pain. And BAD pain. This SUCKS!

And I just read your comment response to Bijoux. Isn't that the truth? Whenever were in pain, it's the morning the worst. And as you shared, it's probably due to do inactivity. And it's the same if you have a cold or flu - morning seems to be the worst time.

Even in your pain though, you're still funny...

"Fuck-a-nola? I have no absolutely no idea what that means. It sounds like a small town in Wisconsin or a college fight song."

That was BRILLIANT! Fuck-a-nola!

Part of last week and this week have been kinda annoying for me as well, so I've been shouting obscenities; using the F-bomb - HA!

I hope you're feeling less in pain today, buddy.

Happy Independence Day!

Walaka said...

Fuck-a-nola indeed, my friend. I wish I had some secret to share, but I all I can send you is good will. Best of luck.

Rob K said...

Good will is very much appreciated at this crappy time, Walter.

Rob K said...

@Hey, Ron!

Yeah, just got back from the chiropractor and I feel a little better. She warned about this terrible habit I have of crossing my legs, so I'm on the lookout for that.

She also mentioned stress as a possible factor. That's going to be a tougher problem to handle, But I'm going to do my best.

Sounds like we're forming our own F-bomb chorus,
so Happy F***king Fourth of July, buddy!!

Jay said...

Have you considered a new mattress? When you say it's worse in the mornings I wonder if yours is worn out ...

This all sounds thoroughly miserable. I feel bad for you, but I have no other suggestions than to do as your chiro says and simply walk. They used to tell us to go to bed and rest when our backs were bad, but now they say it's the worst thing you can do!

I hope it eases soon. :(

Rob K said...

Hi, Jay:

I think a new mattress is a great idea. I honestly don't remember when I got my current one, which means I should probably pack it in.

And thanks so much for your concern!