I’ve carried a case of water into my townhome dozens of times. But, this time, I put one foot on my exterior stairs with a case in both hands and my right knee buckled.
I took my foot down, tucked the water under my one arm, held onto the railing with the other arm then stepped up. Instantly, I felt a pull under my right shoulder blade. It was so sharp, I dropped the case on the stairs.
“What the hell was that?” I mumbled. “That really hurt.”
When I bent over to pick the water, the same pain shot across my chest and back. I became short of breath. Yet, I grabbed the water and stumbled up the stairs as quickly as I could. When I got my front door open, I threw the case on the internal stairs.
I crawled to the landing on my first floor. I sat there and tried to collect myself. Every deep breath was agonizing. Anytime I moved my right arm, the pain raced across my latissimus dorsi muscle.
I crawled over to my dining room table, took the bottle of Percocet out and swallowed one pill without water. I waited for it to kick in before I dragged the water up the last four stairs into my kitchen. Then, I grunted as I stumbled over to my sofa.
I can’t believe that my back is giving me problems for the second week in a row, I thought. Doing my regular errands causes me harm. I guess I have no choice but to change my actions, ask for help or go back to delivery. I don’t want to spend every day off like this.
The poet Rumi wrote, ““If you desire healing, let yourself fall ill, let yourself fall ill.” Within moments, I realized Rumi was right. I laid on my sofa for the rest of the day, icing my back, taking pain pills and enjoying my pain-free slumber.
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