They Haven't Killed Me . . . Yet

I was bending over to buckle a twin into her carseat when BRRRPPPT, an electrical shock ran through my lower back, as it does every six months or so. That's it. That's all she wrote. Can't move. Lumbar muscles have gone into a rock-hard spasm that pitches my entire torso over to the side. This episode has been particularly debilitating; in fact, I would rate this as the second-worst back pain I've ever felt.

The gold medal was awarded to the time when I worked at an office early in the morning by myself—as I crossed the room with ONE FILE in my hand, not even a heavy stack of books, my back inexplicably seized up on me. I literally fell to the floor in agony and COULDN'T GET UP. I wriggled across the floor like an eel? worm? cockroach? and was able to brace myself against the wall into a sitting position. About an hour later, a co-worker arrived and helped me stand. I eventually drove myself home and shuffled to my bed, where I lay on my side for 3 days, crying and moaning in pain. I couldn't take any medication due to my pregnancy with twins at the time. Let me tell you, the actual delivery—ripping babies from my womb—was a piece of cake after that experience with back pain.

This very morning I read in the paper about a woman who was left on the floor for 3 days by her twin sons, until she died. How much do you want to bet her back went out and she dropped to the ground in pain, but the twins were too occupied eating goldfish crackers and watching Clifford the Big Red Dog on TV to notice?



Dinner last night: sour cream enchiladas, refried beans

Exactly one year ago:

Sunday Morning Transformation