Ouch, Part Two

So, in spite of the crippling back pain, I had to make turkey soup for dinner. So I hunched in a half-standing position at the kitchen counter and chopped carrots and celery and cabbage for the soup. I knew that cutting myself would be unavoidable because I couldn't stand with normal posture and kept jerking involuntarily every so often with little spasms of pain. So when I did cut a little slice into the tip of my thumb, I managed only the one swear word, (being unprepared for it would have warranted two, at least), and then, my sweet, sweet Ethan walked alongside me as I hobbled/crawled to the bathroom for a band-aid, and he insisted on getting it for me and unwrapping it. Cameron was too busy laughing at me to be bothered with helping. And to be honest, I was laughing too, because I felt ten degrees worse than ridiculous, whatever that might be, for having to crawl to the bathroom for my first-aid. On the bright side, the flap of skin I cut was still attached to my thumb, so nobody had to worry about eating my flesh with their soup.

So, soup simmering on the stove by some miracle, and into my living room comes Dr. Hull, the world's best chiropractor. He set up his portable adjustment table as I looked on with something akin to fear swelling inside me. I hurt so bad all on my own, I knew he was going to be torturing me - for my own good, of course.

Let's just say I cried. A lot. And with a little bit of hysteria that would normally not be me at all. And I couldn't even muster up the decency to be embarrassed that he had to touch my sweaty back, and who knows what else. (I hadn't yet been able to figure how to take a shower.) I should have thought to tell him that I wouldn't be offended in the least if he wanted to go wash his hands when he was done. Hey, Matt...next time, wash your hands when you're done. I'm good with that.

So Dr. Hull left, and I felt a million times worse than when he arrived. But that happens with chiropractors. They poke you, or turn you, or put pressure where you feel they really should not, until you want to die...or they just make you touch your toes without bending your knees and remind you how inflexible you are. And then a few hours later, you can magically walk again, or squat down to wipe up the milk that someone let dribble from their mouth onto the floor. And in all fairness, Dr. Hull was very gentle, and even helped me turn over and sit up when I found that I could no longer move any part of my body below the second lumbar and was stuck. Course, I suppose he had to help me, or he wouldn't have gotten his table back.

So, I need to thank my posse for their help in getting me through my night. I thank Ethan, who took care of me like a pro. I thank Cameron for keeping me laughing. I thank Drew, Trent and Bryan for not pooping their diapers after I got to the point where I could no longer move my back without shouting, "Holy sonnofa mother lovin' frishterbaza!" I thank David, who kindly stopped at the store and bought rolls and ice cream and cake when I found that I couldn't stand erect or even semi-erect in the kitchen anymore to make the garlic cheese biscuits that I had intended to go with the soup. Oh, and for emptying the dishwasher this morning, too. And I thank Andrew, who stopped pretending that he didn't know how to change a dirty diaper, brought me my dinner in my chair, plugged in my heating pad, made me an ice cream cone, and told me that, no, he would not come save me if he heard a huge ker-thumpity bang! from the bathroom while I was taking a shower, but then told me that I shouldn't lock the door, just in case. Oh! And he also didn't call me a drama queen even once. I would have found a way to punch him in the face if he had. And, in case I haven't actually given real praise yet, I thank Dr. Hull, who punished me just enough to have me walking entirely upright this morning, and almost without that, "I have something stuck in my fanny cheeks" look. And, if he refrained from doing a mocking imitation of my overwrought sobbing for my parents and siblings when he got home, then I thank him for that, too.

And now, I am going to get out of my chair, with only one brief wince and a grunt, and see if I can manage putting a load of laundry in the washing machine. Wish me luck!