Ah, the pranks of age. On Thursday, I reached down for my fitness center pass, of all things, only to jam something in my back. The sensation of doing something really wrong was right there: bam! After suffering through some stationary bike riding and and my last regularly-scheduled class of term, I locked up on the walk to the parking garage. As in becoming completely, stock-still frozen and unable to move. Unbelievable. After a trip to the doc and a subsequent ER visit, I’m now enjoying a steady diet of diazepam and hydrochodone and am readying myself for an afternoon of coaching soccer. Which will be done from a chair.
Missed this weekend, already: hanging out with a friend on Thursday; an acupuncture session, a radio show, a DJ gig and a documentary shoot, all on Friday; and a door shift on Saturday. Tricked my way through a house party spin on Saturday night (much fun, with Cherokee Street’s bustle as a background), but have been otherwise too busy trying to stand up to attempt much of anything else, even as money’s flying out of my pocket.
I’ll punch up some “May’s 13” notes as soon as I have a slight bit less anger toward the world. ‘Til then, don’t take your good health for granted, seriously.
Someone should’ve warned me about these things…