NaBloPoMo!

Well, I may live to regret it, but it's official: I'm participating in National Blog Posting Month!

recovery/relapse

My back was feeling a bit better when I crawled out of bed for the second time this morning (the first time was at 5:30 to feed the pets and swallow some painkillers), and I would have jumped for joy at the thought if I could, you know, jump.

But then I sneezed. And the pain was so blazing-bright, I couldn't bear it. I died.

The end.

Idiot that I am, I believed it would be no big deal for me to don a heavy backpack and walk the mile or so to and from the bus stop each Tuesday and Thursday that I have class on campus; this despite the fact that I have not had cause to perform such an activity in more than a year, and in that time have not performed any other activity that might work the muscles utilized in the carrying of said backpack.

In short: my back fucking hurts.

I made it through a week and a half doing the twice-daily sojourn between my house and the bus stop with minor discomfort, but yesterday the consequences of my neglect of my upper body were visited upon me. All day, the pain crept up slowly until last night it finally peaked into a howling clench of agony in the small of my (rather lovely, I must say) back. Today, my spinal extensor muscles are entirely uncooperative, rendering it nearly impossible to do anything that requires me to bend at the waist, such as leaning over to feed our pets or unload the dishwasher or have dirty standing-up sex. (The former two are activities I perform on a very regular basis, the latter one I might theoretically perform if only I weren't in such terrible pain. You can rest assured it is only theoretical, because I am a virgin.)

I am skipping school today in order to rest my poor aching back. Liberal ingestion of ibuprofen has ratcheted down the volume of my pain from screaming to a dull moan, but the discomfort of sitting at my desk is about to drive me downstairs to find something I can do while lying on the couch. Eating Pop Tarts is the first thing that comes to mind, but I don't imagine that particular activity will last very long.

I am beginning to believe this is the visitation of Karma upon me: just the other night, I commented to Mark that I would never tote around one of those backpacks with wheels, even though the other ones are so bad for the back, because the wheeled ones just look so dorky. In the interest of not looking like a dork, I am enduring this pain and hoping it resolves itself by Tuesday, on which day I will once again shoulder the burden of twenty pounds of books and notes and writing utensils and trudge my way to the bus stop. Lord help me.