Ow! Ow! Ow!

Tis the season when I start to get a little happier, I smile a little more, if I could afford to go out to restaurants I might even give a little larger tip (well let's not get carried away)...and I finally sit down to watch some of my favorite movies.  "You'll shoot your eye out!" is toward the top of the list.  I enjoy all of the "Vacation" movies but "Christmas Vacation" has a special place in my spleen.  (the heart is reserved for my family...and Rocky Road ice cream)  "Scrooged" has a good message and who knew that Dickens' story could be humorous. 

Yes, those movies are nice but they lack the sincerity of "Miracle on 34th Street" and my favorite..."It's a Wonderful Life."  I consider it a failed Christmas season if I haven't seen those movies at least once.  I haven't "failed" in quite some time.

Remember the old Granville place in Wonderful Life?  When Mary and George walk by and end up throwing rocks to break glass and make a wish.  The porch was falling down.  The roof had very few shingles left.  When they ended up moving in it took them years of improvements to make it only drafty and rundown.  And then, remember, that George was tired of the things that kept falling apart including the newel post that always wobbled when he grabbed it on the way upstairs.  (don't feel bad if you didn't know what that banister cap thing was called...I did more research on that than on anything else I have done in the blog)  The point is, the house was in shambles! 

I wish my body was in that good of shape!  And I am not going to say, but I digress, because this is where I was going the whole time!  I am officially falling apart.  There's nothing left but for me to sit on a street somewhere and wait for young couples to come strolling along and throw rocks at me to make wishes...in a football jersey and bathrobe.  OK, I might be done with the movie analogy (in case you are the one person in the universe who hasn't seen this movie...but don't feel bad, I've never seen any of the Godfather movies)

So yes, my body has taken another turn for the worse.  The official story is that I was driving home when I saw an overturned bus, burning, on top of a group of kids, did I say kids...I meant orphans and nuns, and they were burning too, and there was a Jessica Simpson movie playing (was that a little too much imagined tragedy?) and I lifted the bus, single-handedly saving everybody.  I'll pause in my writing to wait for you to get a tissue to dry your moistened eyes.  If you feel that you must do the 'golf clap' I need to request that you do that on your own time.   Ok, I'm back.  As I set the bus down...did I mention that it was burning?...I felt the slightest of twitches in my lower back.  I laughed as I adjusted my cape, took two steps, and flew off to fight crime or something equally heroic.  Dun dun dun Dahhhhhh!!!  (sound effects are nearly impossible to write down...give me a break)

So that is the story that I told everyone yesterday...as I hobbled around with a cane.  What really happened, and I am trusting that you won't repeat this, is I was trying to put the dog into the back yard.  Stop laughing!  That's manly.  Sort of.  Well at least it's kind of heroi...oh never mind.  I'm a wimp.  Yes, I, Jeff Garrett kindergarten teacher, can injure myself by trying to scoot the dog outside.  In my defense, he is a medium sized dog!  It's not like I hurt myself getting out of the car...this time.  It was a medium sized car!

Yes, that is the story.  We were trying to get out the door to take Jake to basketball practice and I decided to have Fudge out rather than in on this night.  That was my first mistake.  Fudge, unbeknownst to me, had decided that he would rather stay in since it was a little chilly out.  I reasoned that since he is the only one in the family with a form fitting fur coat, he could handle it.  So I urged him on.  You dog owners know the look I got from him..."Please sir, may I have but another moment in the house?  I promise I will never again root around in the garbage and then wait until 3:30 A.M. to regurgitate the plastic turkey bag onto the living room carpet."  (I said regurgitate because I am trying to be classy and I didn't want to write vomit...dodged a bullet there!)

Well I, with my opposable thumb superiority, decided that this night was to be declared "dog outside night" and I would make that happen, and get Jake to basketball on time as well.  You know those posters that show the proper way to bend?  Have you ever been to a half-day seminar that explains the way to keep from injuring yourself when lifting?  Have you ever heard the expression, "lift with your legs"?  Apparently, I haven't either.  My technique went something like this.  Stand completely straight, lock the knees, bend at the waist, and lift!...then scream out in pain, fall to the ground, writhe and squirm, practice Lamaze breathing, do a mental roll call of who is in the house to see if I can use the really good pain relieving words, remain motionless in between muscle spasms, cry, assure Jake that daddy is not going to the hospital again, think I may have to go to the hospital again, get really mad because the 29 hairless EKG spots are almost completely grown back...you know, the usual Thursday evening at the Garrett's.

While Sylvia took Jake to practice I managed to inch/scream/crawl to a place where I could climb/shout/hobble to the kitchen cabinet where I keep 'the good stuff'.  I got out the anti-inflammatory prescription meds, cursed the decision to put them on the top shelf, and started inching my way to bed.  A few minutes later I had almost made it across the kitchen and Sylvia came home talking about calling the doctor.  They know me over there.  This'll be fun.  I continued to inch down the hall, screaming in pain, all the while telling Sylvia that I would be fine to go to work tomorrow.  (that's a pre-requisite if you want to keep your man card)  More breathing, more screaming, more whimpering, and I made it to lie down.  Sylvia managed to get a phone appointment, good thing...the next time I was moving out of this bed was when I got up to go to work (man card) and I really like my chest hair un-dalmation-like.  The spasms across my lower back were taking my breath away, it felt like someone had stabbed me with a Bowie knife, and I was trying to avoid making lesson plans.  (come on teachers...can I hear an AMEN!?)

The doc called, started saying something about giving me some pain meds...I told her about the 13 bottles I had left over from when they tried to get me to swallow and I couldn't swallow anything and she asked if she could send patients to our house since the pharmacy was running out. 
She asked if I, "Retained bladder control." 
"Pardon?" 
"Did you have a bowel movement?" 
"Ever?!  Just what are you asking doc?"
"When this happened, did you ...?"
"OH!, You want to know if I messed myself.  Nope, all set.  Wait...yup.  No problem."
"OK. That's good.  Take some of the green pills, one of the white ones, sleep, if it gets worse call back or go to the ER."

Sylvia, "What did she say?"
Me, "She said you were supposed to wait on me hand and foot for months!"
"Good night Jeff!"

I really need to get my sense of humor in check.

So here I am, the bad-luck poster child.  I did make it to work (I got ten more points in my man account...now I can wear a pink shirt without being hassled) and I got many, many comments about how I was falling apart, I am getting old, I should take it easy, Sylvia should wait on me hand and foot for months...but nobody got close to the real reason.  I get much more praise for my blog when I write about being sick or injured.  I was just trying to get more material to write about! 

I am worried about the fan mail that Sylvia is getting...asking her to leave out roller skates, telling the kids to play with marbles on the tile floor, setting the radio next to my sink.  I will try to pick up the pace people!  So to Sylvia's mom, please stop writing.  Kidding!  I can write about other things... who knows, I may have something else to write about soon.  I am working up a pretty good hangnail as we speak!

As of now, I am two days away from the injury.  Thanks to a couple nights of rest and a plethora of medications I am able to function (mostly).  It feels like someone has made a fist around my spine and is squeezing.  I am supporting myself with a cane and taking it easy and most of all trying to avoid further accidents.  I have researched information about being safer.  Hours and hours spent on the internet!  I am a veritable storehouse of safety information!  In fact, while I sit in this ergonomic chair and write this aeromatic blog I have my hands placed in the 10 and 2 position on the keyboard...or is that for changing light bulbs?