On Saturday, I was running a 5K training run when a muscle in my lower left back clenched. And stayed there. Pain. It’s nasty. Sitting wasn’t nice and neither was lying down. Standing was tolerable. So I stood.
On Sunday, loaded up with Advil I drove to New Paltz, NY to watch my daughter Tory play rugby; she’s on the Rutgers University (RU) women’s club team. As I stood on the sidelines, cheering for RU and my girl, my lower back pain lessened, perhaps because watching the hard hitting and tackling young women redirected my mind off my pain and onto what had to be theirs. Or maybe, just maybe I took more Advil than was wise.
My girl Tory made her first tackles during the game; the splat of skin against skin is a tough sound for this Mom to hear. Rugby is football without protective gear. I’m convinced that the only reason players wear mouthpieces is so their dentists can easily find their loose and broken teeth. RU won and I drove home. In pain. Every four hours I popped Advil, and the pain hovered (mostly) on my periphery.
On Monday the pain was a little less; Advil and I were close personal friends. On Tuesday, same deal. A little less pain and a little more freedom of movement. Then I bent over to pick up an errant piece of paper and the spasm roared back with a vengeance. I screamed. The spasms came intermittently and unexpectedly from then on. Misery is now my middle name.
Today I had a full schedule, but I cancelled everything and made a doctor’s appointment. This has to stop. Dr. Michael Molinaro is a gem of an internist; he told me to cease all physical activity for five days, take the naproxen he prescribed twice a day, apply heat twice a day and take a Flexeril at night. And call him on Friday if i am not starting to feel better. Please keep your fingers (and toes, although I know that can be uncomfortable) crossed that this medical intervention works.
Congratulations to Joanne and Still Blonde, winners of a signed copy of Chicken Soup for the Soul, Married Life!