Back story

This isn't the first post I've written about my aching back. I wrote this one last time it went out on me this bad.

Well, it's happened again and I don't know why. God knows I haven't been doing any physical labor (the only thing Jews know how to lift is the Yellow Pages). But for almost a month now, I've been in excruciating pain when I make certain movements.

Like standing. Or walking. Lying down. And sitting.

Not a good situation anytime, but especially bad since I've been freelancing for a month. It involves a lot of chair time, and twisting around to talk to people. Which is fine, except for the Game Of Thrones sword that pierces my back every time I make a move in that chair.

I've always been one to try to ride things like this out, but about a week ago I came to the pain-ridden decision that enough was enough. The ride was over.

I've now been to my chiropractor five times in the last eight days. Each time I go, they do a whole bunch of stuff to me: cold laser therapy, massage, some device that sounds like a jack-hammer to break up adhesions. There may also be ritual dancing and war paint involved, but I'm face down on the table so I can't say for sure.

Anyway,I usually feel a little better when I leave, but it's a one-step-up-two-step-back situation. By the time I get home, it starts to hurt again. I have two gel ice packs like the one you see here, and I alternate them so my lower back is constantly frozen.

The cautiously optimistic news is my back was a lot less swollen tonight, and it actually feels better than it has for awhile. So I'll stay the course as long as it keeps improving, and hope that soon it'll be back to normal.

By the way, Back To Normal was my second choice for the title of this post.

How big is that bulge

Sorry about the somewhat provocative headline. My close, personal friend and fellow blogger Rich Siegel over at Round Seventeen always tells me the more suggestive the headline the higher the readership. So be sure and tune in for tomorrow's post: Keeping A Breast Of The Situation.

Anyway, my back went out about three days ago and it hasn't come back yet. Four days ago, I was clearing a path in our garage so the termite guys could come hit a few spots where the little wood-chompers were having their winter buffet.

And not to get too much off track here, but why do all termite and pest companies have those stupid cars: VW beetles (no pun intended) with rat ears and a tail, or giant ants crawling up the side of the car? If they're carrying all that pesticide shouldn't the bugs be gone? Don't get me started.

Where was I? Oh yeah. So at one point, I lifted an extremely heavy box of books, and as I was doing it I immediately knew two things: I was lifting it the wrong way, and I was going to pay for it.

The next day, as I sat down in my big, soft, swallow-you-whole reading chair, I heard a pop in my lower back that could only mean one thing. I'm so screwed.

Since it was a holiday weekend, my chiropractor - the incredible Michelle Zarzana - was closed. I texted and asked if there was any chance she'd be in the office on New Year's Eve day. She wasn't planning on it, but said she'd be glad to come in for me.

The woman's a saint and I'm guessing has a special spot in heaven reserved just for her.

After she worked on my back I felt slightly better. Following her advice, I went home and iced my back the rest of the day. Then, going against her advice, I went to see Les Miserables with the family for New Year's Eve. Can I just tell you how good my back felt after sitting in a theater seat for almost three hours?

I dreamed a dream I hadn't done something that stupid.

On January 1st, we went to our friends house in Topanga for the annual New Year's day brunch, and I was at least able to move around.

Today, I went back to Dr. Zarzana. After working more on my back, and talking about my symptoms and pain, she concluded it's probably a bulging disc (between 1 & 2 or 2 & 3 for those of you keeping count). I asked if I'd need surgery for it, and she said no. But she did say I'd have to work on increasing my core strength, and that I definitely had to lose weight.

I get that a lot.

So now, it seems the impossible has happened. If I don't want the lead in the revival of Sunrise At Campobello (look it up), I'm actually going to have to follow through on my annual resolution to lose weight and get in better shape.

Meanwhile, if things get any worse, I may have to have an MRI and see how bad my disc actually is. Which would be okay.

At least then I could show my bulge to anyone who wanted to see it.

Torture device in disguise

The bane of agency existence is meeting after meeting after meeting. They always drag on forever.

Fortunately the agency I'm working at now has found a unique solution to the problem.

Torture chairs.

I always used to make fun of the black, cushy, faux-leather, Mad Men looking chairs around agency conference tables. That was until I planted myself in one of these hard, cold, badly designed little torture devices.

Cushy faux leather chairs, I take it all back.

These are bar none the world's most uncomfortable chairs. It's like some junior high kid taking metal shop saw an empty tin can and thought, "You know what, I could make a chair out of this."

Every time I have to sit in one for a meeting, all I think about is how much money the government could save on water, plywood and Guns 'N Roses cd's at Gitmo if they just shipped a few of these bad boys down there.

One good thing can be said for them: once a meeting starts, there's none of the usual chit-chat or preamble. Everyone gets right down to business. No one wants to be sitting in them a second longer than they have to.

It is entertaining to watch everyone constantly shifting position to try and get - not comfortable, because that's the impossible dream - but to a place that won't require a chiropractor or orthopedic surgery afterwards.

In spite of the chairs, almost every one who calls a meeting here thinks it's been a successful and productive one.

Maybe that's because they're all standing room only.