My Back

My back is killing me again. Yesterday afternoon was when I first knew that something might be off. I was just going through an ordinary day doing my ordinary things, and when I bent down, one time, after lunch, just a little bit, to clean my tray, OWWW! I felt that old familiar crack of pain in my lower back. It was very transient, though. It was enough to make you worry, and you could feel that awful crackle every once in a while, depending on how you moved, though you could never figure out exactly what it was that will kick off the torment, that hellish pain, like Satan is playing an evil little sonata on the vertebrae and nerves of my lower spine. Still, one could hope it was nothing, that it would simply go away as suddenly as it came. When you went to bed at night, you could even think that maybe you got away with it, dodged a bullet, you were going to be fine - a nice dream, Charlie Brown. The thing about dreams is that you have to wake up. It was when I woke up after a couple of hours of some pretty good sleep, and began to get out of bed for a bathroom run, that I realized I didn't get away with anything. This is no longer just a momentary annoyance. It's a full-time thing now. This will probably last through tomorrow as well, and then it is not wild optimism to hope this thing will begin to clear. This is the familiar pattern. It's just that there is always that fear: maybe it doesn't go away this time.

Sunday

Cripes, Pop is doing a ton of laundry today. I guess I can forget about my afternoon nap. And, after my big lunch, I feel so right for a good long snooze. It is the wintry coolness of the house, with the air just nippy enough to make bundling up under the blankets seem like a trip to heaven, with angels on clouds playing soothing harp music.