I’m 26 years old. I’m young, normal-sized- not super svelte, but healthyish. And young. Did we cover that? I’m YOUNG, dammit.
Which makes this incredibly embarrassing to admit.
I threw out my back two weeks ago. I think that’s what it’s called? I’m not up to speed on the lingo of the decrepit. I pulled a muscle or tweaked something or, I don’t really know what the hell it is, but that thing where suddenly I can’t move my entire body for no good reason. I was bending over to pick up a wooden block and… got stuck. I just couldn’t straighten to standing. A flash of heat and pain, and I can’t move.
Just put me in a nursing home already.
The next morning, I was able to do strenuous activities like get out of bed and stand up, so I assumed that I had done that thing that 26-year-olds do and healed right up. I was sorely mistaken (sorely! guffaw!). For the two weeks since then, I’ve been getting twinges throughout the day and by the end of the night, my back is hot and sore and angry, shooting pain down to my toes and up through my neck.
It does not make for a pleasant Liz.
Imagine, if you will, having a 23lb beefy little son to pick up and put down and carry through the house. To bend over at the tub and give a bath. To clean up after as he scatters crayons and legos and wooden puzzle pieces from room to room. To wipe up after he sends a cascade of apple juice across the linoleum.
Now, imagine doing all of that with the added pleasure of a sharp pain across your lower back each time you bend.
All I’m saying is, go give your mom a hug.
Meanwhile, I’ll be getting fitted for a walker and colostomy bag.