Sunday 7 October 2012

No giggling at the back

I briefly noted in my earlier piece that I was unable to do more than do a cursory vacuuming at my friend's . Yes fine, you may scoff that is more than I usually manage but this was serious; I couldn't have done it if I'd tried.

The tweaky back had been coming on for a while and I'd ignored it, hoping that the odd bit of running and stretching would knock it on the head. A few months of really bad posture plus a 39 year old spine equals silent-screamingly bad back pain which was only relieved by lying on my side. An unorthodox position for a Contrary Towers inmate...I like to sup my martinis vaguely upright, not prone. Not the first one anyway.

This obviously had implications on my trip to Italy and I can now confirm that marble slabs, wooden benches, stone, airport seats are all extremely uncomfortable to lie on and should be avoided at all costs. And as for the actual flight that was the most comfortable part of the journey. The new slogan should be 'Ryannair: Better Than Backache'. So unless I was reclining like a Senator at a Roman orgy, then it was pretty sore.

A week before my trip, as I lay on the floor on my back like a wounded beetle, I realised something would have to be done to put my mind at rest. I suspected it wasn't anything more than a nerve being pressed upon somewhere but agony like this wasn't to be ignored. The following day I saw an osteopath. He got quite close for a chap who was meeting me for the first time. And to be fair, anyone who asks me to press my knees into their groin without having had a couple of bottles of something beforehand is going to raise eyebrows. It might have in a previous no-pain life but what he was doing was causing my eyes to water. Anyway armed with a brief of exercises and strict instructions to travel light and stop running, I hobbled off.

Ceasing the running was a mere inconvenience. Travel light to the style centre of the world?  My life was over.

As it happened the trip wasn't a disaster and I think I was only mildly drama queeny about it. I managed on 2 changes of clothes and the emptyish bag was an excellent excuse to pick up some gorgeous dresses. Being quite short woollen ones, they were light so no trouble to carry home. The trip to Kidderminster and the two bottles of champagne, that was slightly more problematic but I made it without resorting to drinking them.

Not what it looks like...
As the nice man promised, I've had a week of pain, a week of irritability (set to continue for a bit longer) and I think it is finally subsiding into a dose of sciatica. I'm following his instructions to the a little more. My bedroom floor now resembles a rubber torture chamber of toys, with prickle balls, overly firm gym ball, rubber stretch ribbons (no idea what the technical term is) and a cylindrical foam thing to roll up and down on. I've also started yoga at work and there will be gentle jogging as of today. The feeling of being utterly helpless when you drop your body scrub in the shower isn't great and I don't want it again. And also there have been moments in the past couple of weeks when the flatmate and I have been in giggling hysterics leading me to gasp out, begging for mercy.

So for all you bad postured people. Sit up now. You have been warned!

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