Lumbar Disc Herniation. I have it; you want it.
About a week ago, I realized that it hurt when I laid down (that’s what the kids like to call a “red flag,” by the way). A stinging sensation ran straight up my back, with all the intensity and bravado of a cattle prod. After wincing and peeing a little, I checked to make sure I wasn’t attempting to take a nap on any live wires, and thoughtfully stroked my smooth chin.
“Well, that can’t possibly be right,” I said to myself. Then I passed out.
Further attention located the cause of my problem to be a severely tender lower back. Ignoring it for the first few days, I then realized that my legs were experiencing a large amount of tingling and pain when I slept. My constant kicking and shifting even put me on the couch for a night or so, as to not boot the Missus in the ovaries by accident one unfortunate night. Eventually, I put two and two together, and here we are. I don’t really know how it happened, but I have it and it’s not going away.
And yes, I see the irony in being too out of shape for a nap. Save the jokes, turd-burglars.
In reality, it’s sort of a serious thing. A lumbar disc is inflamed in my lower back, and it’s messing with my spine (ruh-roh). When I press hard enough on it, my right leg tingles (ruh-roh!). I’ve been going over the checklist in my head as to how this might have happened, and I think it has something to do with my multiple attempts to breakdance in the living room (I do this during TV commercials so the Missus doesn’t get bored). It was only a matter of time before I popped and locked one too many times, causing something to snap and leak out of my spinal cord.
Now, the Missus will never be bored. When I inevitably become a cripple, she’ll have to feed me mashed vegetables and wipe my aforementioned smooth chin every day. I’ll have to change the name of my page to “Quadriplegic Dance Party,” and we all know how those end up. The end times are near, and I’m preparing for the rapture.
Or, it will all heal up in six weeks, provided I take it easy and gob Icy Hot on it; whichever’s easiest for me. You know how much I hate putting ointments on my body, however, so paralyzation is still a serious option I’m weighing out with my family.
In the meantime, it hurts like hell and I’m not comfortable in any position but standing up. When I’m seated, I shift around more than Michael J. Fox on the Tilt-A-Whirl (meanest joke ever). When I lay down, it feels like my legs are trying to detach themselves from my doughy thorax (and can you blame them?). I’m cranky, irritable and plowing through the ice packs with reckless abandon.
You know, I can’t help but think that this is some sort of divine retribution for something bad I’ve done in the last few weeks. Perhaps God isn’t too happy with the concept of me being an ordained Reverend. Being raised Catholic, it’s always been assumed that I’m a hell-bound sinner, and it was only a matter of time before the bookkeeping staff in Heaven realized that I’ve slipped through the cracks and vaporized me on the spot.
Imagine my surprise when they decided to kill me slowly and painfully. Those guys are a hoot.
My spine hurts. Sound off in the comments section and give me a verbal massage.