Who knew you could hurt yourself picking up a sock? Well, I am not exactly sure that is what I did, but it was about that innocent. Last Friday, after yoga class with a substitute teacher, I woke up with a pain in the back… lower right, to be exact. Sometime between then and Thursday morning, the pain moved to my lower left side, and then all the way across. I felt like my lower back was made of concrete.
Three and a half years ago, when I broke my right wrist, I had an opportunity to think about what an amazing bit of engineering our human bodies are. Then, I was in an elbow cast, and couldn’t brush my teeth, put in or take out my contacts, and a number of other simple actions. This morning, I had pause to consider the miracle of motion once again.
Getting out of bed was a major undertaking. I sort of rolled off my princess-and-the-pea mattress, praying my feet would touch the floor first. They did, but it wasn’t much of an advantage. Standing up ‘bout killed me. Stretching my arms across to make my bed was impossible. I had to hold onto the wall to feed my pets, and I had to hold onto the sink to throw away trash. Hoo-boy. I was nearly nauseous with pain.
I knew there was no way I could climb up my step-stool to get my ice bag down, but I did manage to get an ice pack prepared by wrapping a bag of freezer peas in a dish towel. Not too much bending needed there. I took three Ibuprofen, shuffled to the sofa, got the ice pack positioned, and concentrated on relaxing. In the Catholic way, I offered up my suffering.
Three hours later, I was once again mobile. Ah, mobility. It is good to have an experience like mine every now and then, just to appreciate the many glorious days when all those body parts all work in concert. Feeling good is SO much better than not. Quick recovery is a blessing, and ice, prayer, and Ibuprofen aren’t so bad, either.