I did something very stupid a few days ago. My daughter asked me to carry her “like a baby” and I couldn’t resist. Even though she is almost as tall as me, and has roughly the same body mass as Baltimore Raven’s Ray Lewis, I happily scooped her up in my arms. Unfortunately, my lower vertebrae would have preferred I had chosen to remain upright and not crunch myself into a paralyzed hunchback for the rest of the week.
I like to live on the edge.
So I guess I ‘pinched’ my sciatic nerve on the right side. Heh. Funny how something so innocuous like a little pinch has the power to make me feel like my entire lower back and leg are constantly being crushed in a vise then set on fire.
This pain is pretty intense, unbearable at times. I can barely get dressed, putting on pants, socks or shoes is excrutiating, so I’m living in my bathrobe. It’s impossible to sleep. It’s hard to sit, stand, walk, bend, lie down, breathe.
Let’s take a moment to realize something here–I’ve lost my ability to sit. Something I’ve had a deep fondness for all my life. Tragic. Why bother living anymore? The only way I might feel some relief is if I were to be suspended in midair, but I can’t afford a bungee cord at the moment, and besides, how would I eat my Hot Pockets?
I’ve spent this past week alternately sitting on a heating pad or screaming at my husband to pour a bucket of ice down the back of my pants. In between all the moaning and groaning and the popping of Advil like they were M&Ms, I noticed the house was deteriorating at a rapid pace.
Suddenly it dawned on me, my housekeeping routine hinges on one crucial thing: the ability to pick things up.
My entire life as a mom consists of me bending over to pick crap up off the floor. Dirty clothes, goldfish crackers, Ho Ho wrappers, beer cans, cigar butts, tequila bottles. Sure, normally I’d have the kids pick up their mess but really, they have enough to deal with working the graveyard shift at McDonald’s.
Yesterday, I couldn’t take anymore. I had been sitting in one precarious position on the couch (still in constant pain) watching my house morph into Hoarder Heaven. Soon they’d have to use a backhoe to get to me and lift my paralyzed body out on a stretcher.
After a complicated series of muscle manauvering, I managed to slide myself up off the couch. I slowly shuffled over to some various junk left on the living room floor. As God is my witness, I will clean up this mess! I stuck one leg out in front of me, keeping it straight so I’d reach the floor without bending my back, my other leg crouched underneath. I was doing an as-yet-undiscovered yoga move, twisting my legs into positions they had no business being in. Minutes ticked by as I gradually, and ohhhh so gently, lowered my achy body into a wobbly pretzel-shaped squat.
My hand shook as I reached out and picked up a handful of Legos. “A-ha!” I yelled out in triumph, tears rolling down my face. “YES! I will overcome this pain!” I raised my fist. “My house will not become a pigsty! SCIATICAAAAA!!!! Freeeeeedooooooom!!!” Then I felt a pop and my body gave out. I fell to the floor. I couldn’t move, the pain instense. I turned my head and looked longingly at the half-eaten Hot Pocket still on my plate, a mere few feet out of my reach. “Noooooooooo…..why, dear lord? Why?”
I was stuck on the living room floor.
Probably for the rest of my life.
As I lay there, the sharp edges of Legos grinding into my back, I could only think one thing:
I should really invest in some muu-muus and bungee cords.
Have you ever suffered from lower back pain? Does a bear have lower back pain while shitting in the woods?
(This post brought to you direct from my living room floor. After I passed out a few hours, I managed to crawl over to my iPad and blog about my ordeal. If you’re not too busy, would ya stop by and help me up? And bring me some more Ho Hos. Thanks)