Back Out
I was just trying to sit down and it went.
Went where? What went?
Gone walkabout. My back.
I heard a sound that resembled something being crunched, "crrrck," and I could not stand up.
Then the memory was only of pain.
I must not fall down, I must not fall down, I said to myself.
If I fell here and lose consciousness, no one would find me for another, hmm, ten hours.
Managed to get to the computer to send a couple of messages, then thought that lying down would help.
It helped only insofar as Radio Four sent me to sleep and I forgot the pain for a while.
Then I managed to have a phone conversation with husband.
Until that point my fear was how do I get my son home from school? Do I call the school and ask them to ask another parent to send him home?
Do I request a staff member to make sure he got across the road safely?
Then what happens when he gets home? Could I get to the door to open it?
What a relief it was that husband said he would come home to pick the son up. Meanwhile I was told to get a doctor's appointment.
By this time I was in tears and when the GP's receptionist spoke to me she knew I had to be seen to, "It's either I saw the doctor or the doctor would have to make a house call."
"Could you drive?"
Too much pain, no.
"Could you get a taxi?"
A taxi? Ah! Good idea. So managed to get to the GP in a taxi.
Forgot to request for a vehicle that has a high seat because I just could not get down to there.
Driver saw that I was in pain and offered me a seat at the front of his MPV. Ouch, ouch, ouch! Took me ages to get into the car.
And then when we got to the GP it took me ages to get out. En route the driver was telling me what drug I should take.
How do you know these things? I asked.
It turned out he used to be a pharmacist!!
While doing my electronic check-in I dropped my walking stick. A much older lady bent over to pick it up for me. Cool! Not. Truth is there was no way I could bend over to retrieve the stick.
Doctor decided I had pulled a muscle. Medication needed to help me get past the pain barrier. The last thing I must do -- it seemed -- was to lie down and do nothing.
I must keep doing things, the normal day-to-day things, pain or no pain.
A week later I am about 90% back to healthy life. There is still an occasional spasm, but no where close to the agony I was in.
People comment on my 'funky stick'. Bought it in Devon some time ago. Thought it looked nice and it came in useful when the snow was ground into ice. And now I use it to give me some confidence when the spasms come and I feel like toppling.
Husband has been doing a lot of what I normally do. And then complained that he was also getting a backache. Proof: mothering is back-breaking work. QED. Quite Enough Said.
Office workers and professionals carry piles of papers and files, etc, about. Mothers are always bending over: load the washing machine, unload the washing machine, lift a basket of wet laundry, carry the wet laundry to the line, hang up the wet washing, stretching and bending with each sock, shirt and whatever else, retrieve the dry washing, carry the dry washing somewhere else, fold the dry washing, carry a full basket of clean clothes to the various rooms, return the clean clothes to their respective receptacles, in low drawers and high shelves. And then start on another load of washing.
Load the dishwasher, bending over for each item of crockery or cutlery, put in the washing tablet, unload the dishwasher (but I am lazy housewife and tries not to do this), return crockery to cupboard in a kitchen built for Europeans, not tiny Singaporean Chinese. Stretch, get on my toes.
I suffered RSI when working in an office, (and still do as I also do a lot of work at the computer at home) but not backache to the extent that I had been suffering since I became Mum.
Those of you who have never shown appreciation to the person who does these back-breaking chores in your household, please do so. And please help out whenever possible.
Ouch!
Back to Organic-Ally. Become our fan on Facebook.
Went where? What went?
Gone walkabout. My back.
I heard a sound that resembled something being crunched, "crrrck," and I could not stand up.
Then the memory was only of pain.
I must not fall down, I must not fall down, I said to myself.
If I fell here and lose consciousness, no one would find me for another, hmm, ten hours.
Managed to get to the computer to send a couple of messages, then thought that lying down would help.
It helped only insofar as Radio Four sent me to sleep and I forgot the pain for a while.
Then I managed to have a phone conversation with husband.
Until that point my fear was how do I get my son home from school? Do I call the school and ask them to ask another parent to send him home?
Do I request a staff member to make sure he got across the road safely?
Then what happens when he gets home? Could I get to the door to open it?
What a relief it was that husband said he would come home to pick the son up. Meanwhile I was told to get a doctor's appointment.
By this time I was in tears and when the GP's receptionist spoke to me she knew I had to be seen to, "It's either I saw the doctor or the doctor would have to make a house call."
"Could you drive?"
Too much pain, no.
"Could you get a taxi?"
A taxi? Ah! Good idea. So managed to get to the GP in a taxi.
Forgot to request for a vehicle that has a high seat because I just could not get down to there.
Driver saw that I was in pain and offered me a seat at the front of his MPV. Ouch, ouch, ouch! Took me ages to get into the car.
And then when we got to the GP it took me ages to get out. En route the driver was telling me what drug I should take.
How do you know these things? I asked.
It turned out he used to be a pharmacist!!
While doing my electronic check-in I dropped my walking stick. A much older lady bent over to pick it up for me. Cool! Not. Truth is there was no way I could bend over to retrieve the stick.
Doctor decided I had pulled a muscle. Medication needed to help me get past the pain barrier. The last thing I must do -- it seemed -- was to lie down and do nothing.
I must keep doing things, the normal day-to-day things, pain or no pain.
A week later I am about 90% back to healthy life. There is still an occasional spasm, but no where close to the agony I was in.
People comment on my 'funky stick'. Bought it in Devon some time ago. Thought it looked nice and it came in useful when the snow was ground into ice. And now I use it to give me some confidence when the spasms come and I feel like toppling.
Husband has been doing a lot of what I normally do. And then complained that he was also getting a backache. Proof: mothering is back-breaking work. QED. Quite Enough Said.
Office workers and professionals carry piles of papers and files, etc, about. Mothers are always bending over: load the washing machine, unload the washing machine, lift a basket of wet laundry, carry the wet laundry to the line, hang up the wet washing, stretching and bending with each sock, shirt and whatever else, retrieve the dry washing, carry the dry washing somewhere else, fold the dry washing, carry a full basket of clean clothes to the various rooms, return the clean clothes to their respective receptacles, in low drawers and high shelves. And then start on another load of washing.
Load the dishwasher, bending over for each item of crockery or cutlery, put in the washing tablet, unload the dishwasher (but I am lazy housewife and tries not to do this), return crockery to cupboard in a kitchen built for Europeans, not tiny Singaporean Chinese. Stretch, get on my toes.
I suffered RSI when working in an office, (and still do as I also do a lot of work at the computer at home) but not backache to the extent that I had been suffering since I became Mum.
Those of you who have never shown appreciation to the person who does these back-breaking chores in your household, please do so. And please help out whenever possible.
Ouch!
Back to Organic-Ally. Become our fan on Facebook.
Comments