Politicians pontificate about the overwhelming, heavy public debt riding on each of our backs. Well, today, my friends, I feel like I’m personally carrying all that debt myself on my aching back.
You see, my back is out of whack. Really. I’m talking literally. My back’s been troubling me since last Thursday for no good reason.
I’ve tried recalling my recent activities in an attempt to figure out how my back got twisted up in knots. Did I lift something heavy that strained my back? Nope. Did I fall? Nah. Stumble? No. Fail to bend my knees when I picked up my suitcase? No way. So what the heck did I do to it? I have no idea whatsoever.
I don’t have an achy-breaky heart, I have an achy-breaky lower back. A back that impedes normal walking and screams in agony when I climb the steps (and oh, did I mention I live in a two-story house?). My out of sorts back doesn’t want to ache alone, so now it’s convinced my hip to join in and if that isn’t enough, there’s this pain running down the side of my leg. One day it extended to my knee, yesterday it worked its way down to the calf of that leg. I suspect the sciatic nerve is pinched, bunched, generally in a tizzy, or something akin to that and tomorrow I have an appointment with a chiropractor.
But for now, as I sit in my easy chair with my best friend, ibuprofen; a solid pillow propped behind me; and an ice pack on the afflicted area (20 minutes on, 20 minutes off), the only thing coming to my mind happens to be songs with the word back in them. Songs like the Jackson Five’s “I Want You Back.” Back, it’s true! Ooo, ooo, baby, I want you back. I want you, my healthy back, back.
And then there’s “I’m Bringing Sexy Back” by Justin Timberlake. Well, right now, my back’s not bringing anything, let alone sexy. I’d be ecstatic walking a normal gait instead of this shuffle, never mind a sexy swing.
Going the country music route, “Back Then” by Tim McGraw comes to mind. Tim, I don’t just miss back then “when a hoe was a hoe, coke was a Coke and crack’s what you were doing when you were cracking jokes,” I also greatly miss my back sans pain and the fact that this currently wacky back is preventing my evening strolls in the lovely fall weather.
And then there’s that Hall and Oates tune, “Baby Come Back,” which I would like to rename “Back Come Back.” Back, come back, any kind of fool could see, there was something in everything about you. Back come back, you can blame it all on me, I was wrong, and I just can’t live without you.
I’ve even gone to the deep recesses of my mind’s song treasure trove with “Carry Me Back to Ol’ Virginny.” Well, if this doesn’t let up soon, I’m not just going to need someone to carry me back to Virginia or anywhere else, someone just may have to carry me up the stairs!
So you can see, I’m feeling a little unhinged on Page 11, Chapter 10, in my book of Opportunity. I can’t get my back off of my mind. Seems like my back’s really got a hold on me…..oh wait, that’s another song, and I’d give anything to move like Smokey Robinson and the Miracles right now.
Copyright ©2011 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com