I never thought that putting on shoes could be so difficult and painful. But when you can't bend over you are limited to the length of your arms when dealing with your lower extremities. And though I've been accused of being a knuckle dragging neanderthal before, right now I would welcome the necessary arm length and a few skinned knuckles if it meant getting my shoes and socks on without my screaming disturbing the neighbors.
Why the back issue you ask. I wish I had an explanatioin that included bravery and gallantry, macho he-man savagery in the cause of rightiousness, or medal earning heroics. But the simple truth is that I was merely stepping out of the shower, one foot in the other out, when my back seized up and went into full blown spasm. After several minutes of loud cursing and pathetic whimpering, I realized that something was, indeed, dreadfully wrong. My first thought was to somehow drag my worthless carcass into the bedroom where I could call 911 and get someone to come here to put me out of my misery. But since I was still naked from my shower and didn'nt want to traumatize anyone at such a sight or embarrass myself beyond my crying helplessness, I managed to ever-so-slowly wriggle myself into some pants and a shirt. At least then I would maintain a modest amount of dignity as I lay dying on the floor.
Somehow I managed to get my shoes on through a series of minute incremental steps involving bending where my back would rather not bend. Why so insistant on getting my shoes on? I decided in my pain induced delirium to drive (yes drive) to keep my scheduled appointment with my physical therapist, reasoning that she would perform some magical voodoo and relieve my of this painful state. I was in no condition to drive, I know, but I reasoned that since it was only a trip of half a mile, I could make the attempt.
The result? I got there without mishap, Chris performed what voodoo she could to get me functional again and sent me home with instructions to call my doctor and get some muscle relaxant meds to help me recover. So here I sit, doped up and befuddled, half conscious and mysteriously happy in my drugged state. But the old back is still mighty sore and uncooperative. This is going to take a few more days before I will be able to move with any kind of normalcy. Once I can get my shoes on without shedding more tears, I will know I've reached that normal state.
Golf season is only a couple weeks away. Will I make it back in time?