Phone call to my mom yesterday:
Me: Hi mom. I just wanted to call and say ‘happy mother’s day’. I won’t be stopping by today because I’m going to the emergency room.
That’s right, I went to the ER yesterday. Why? Because I pulled a muscle in my lower back.
How? I can’t really pinpoint the exact moment but a lot of events occurred over the weekend that led to the pain.
Saturday – spent a good portion of the day helping Jeremy with our back area. He decided it was time to get rid of our grassy patch (aka the dogs’ toilet for the last 4 years) and replace it with new dirt and sod. The dogs had stopped going to the bathroom on this patch of grass and Jeremy determined it was time for a change. I helped him load the bajillion bags of pee and poop soaked dirt into my parents’ SUV and then to the landfill. I knew my back was going to be sore.
Afterwards, we met up with some pals for an end of season Kickball cookout. It turned into a dance party where people showcased such great dance moves as “the plumber”, “the sumo wrestler”, “the crane”, “the grading papers” and many more.
Sunday morning I woke up with a very sore and stiff back. Still – I was functioning. I finished the frostings for the cupcakes I made for Mother’s Day (for my in-laws) and just noticed my back was feeling stiffer and stiffer. I asked Jeremy to rub it and we both felt a strange click. Still… I was okay.
I showered… started to get dressed and then the real pain set in. Extreme pain. Pain that left me completely paralyzed. Pain that had me sobbing. Pain that required me to scream for Jeremy to help get me out of the awkward position I was in next to the bed because moving any sort of muscle was just making the pain worse.
Pain that took me 10 minutes to get down are small set of stairs with the help of Jeremy.
Pain that took me 20 minutes to get a pair of pants on so that I could go to the emergency room.
Pain that took me another 10 minutes to get into Jeremy’s car.
Pain that had me walking like the Quasimodo into the ER.
When we pulled up to the ER, the security guard asked if I needed a wheelchair. I replied, ‘No thanks. My ego won’t let me.”
When I entered the ER, a nurse asked if I needed a wheelchair. I replied, “I’m only 28! I don’t need a wheelchair.”
Jeremy went to park the car and when he got into the ER, I was already in triage. He said he asked the front-desk clerk where he could find his wife who just came in. She replied, “Oh – the crooked girl? She’s back in triage.”
The ER doc didn’t take a single x-ray but instead touched my back and said, “You pulled a muscle.” He injected some anti-inflammatory crap and gave me a painkiller. He then wrote a prescription for oxycodone.
I still feel the pain. My facebook status said something along the lines of, “As if I’m not depressed enough about turning 29, I threw my frickin’ back out.” I feel like I’m 90 years old.