We’ve all heard it. “I wrenched my back” or “I pulled my back out.” But what do those phrases really mean?
I can imagine that “I wrenched my back” means you did something to it, and now it feels like someone is tightening a crescent wrench around your spine. They just keep on tightening and tightening it. And then they tighten it some more Or “I pulled my back out” could mean that you did something to it and now it feels like someone has tied a rope around your spine and is trying to rip it out of your back.
But what’s the phrase for feeling like someone is taking a hot knife and stabbing it into your lower back just above one of your butt cheeks, followed by that whole wrenching and pulling thing? I’d really like to know because that’s what’s been going on with me for the last four days. I think I shall call it “someone keeps taking a hot knife and stabbing me in my lower back just above my butt cheek. Then they keep tightening a wrench around my spine. That wasn’t bad enough, so they tied a rope around it and are trying to rip it out of my body!”
I know it’s a long phrase, but I really think it’ll catch on.
Tony spent a good deal of time fiberglassing some 2×4’s in our garage. It’s not really a garage. It’s the starboard forepeak which used to be a crew head (bathroom). But now we use it strictly as storage, so it became our garage. Anyway, I wanted to be able to hang our fishing poles and extra dock lines in there. Since you can’t drill directly into the side of the hull, because then you literally have holes in the side of the boat, we had to fiberglass some wood strips onto the inside of the hull, and drill into that. Tony did a great job.
He finished on Thursday, so I spent the rest of the day hauling stuff in and out, organizing, etc. This meant many trips up and down that stupid ladder that someone thought was a good idea. I also started organizing our port side forepeak. We have way too much stuff on board and need to make room for guests coming next month. Lots of moving, shoving, lifting, etc. So, naturally, I took an Alieve Thursday night.
I woke up Friday morning to a really sore back. That’s not uncommon for me since I have scoliosis and arthritis in my lower back. So I just took it easy Friday. But by the time I woke up Saturday morning, I could barely move. Every time I tried to sit or stand, I had that searing knife shoved into my lower back. Nothing helped; Alieve, Advil, Tylenol, nothing. I even resorted to taking half of an Oxycodone that I had leftover from a surgery two years ago. That just put me to sleep.
Our neighbors are super nice. Oliluki let me borrow a back massager, and Sandy Bottoms gave me a Lidocain patch and three muscle relaxants. I know you aren’t supposed to share drugs, but these were seriously desperate times. And what the hell! We aren’t in America!!! And 9-year-old twins, Oliver and Lucas from OliLuki even put on their aprons and made me an amazing chocolate/peanut butter dessert. Because chocolate cures everything! They’re absolutely adorable. Thanks everybody!
Today is day five. I can’t take anymore Alieve after today due to risk of kidney damage and stomach ulcers. And Tylenol and Advil didn’t touch the pain. I can only stand for one minute before the knife comes back. What to do? Luckily, we’re stuck here at the marina waiting for decent weather to make our way to Nassau. So we aren’t missing out on much exploration.
I hate shots. Ever since I can remember, I’ve gotten squeamish around needles. When I was in Girl Scouts, we had a tour of our local hospital. I accidentally saw someone getting a blood draw and I hit the floor. As a teenager, I was in Israel with my grandparents and needed a shot of antibiotics to cure a raging case of strep throat. The doctor went to see my grandparents in the waiting room.
“She needed a shot of penicillin, and she fainted.”
“She’s always hated shots.”
“I haven’t even given it to her yet!”
Yep, I even had natural childbirth – TWICE – all to avoid the epidural. A needle in my spine? Are you kidding me?
I really hate shots.
After five days of laying flat on my back on the boat in Great Harbour Cay Marina with excruciating back pain, I finally told Jeff to call a doctor. Luckily, this little island has one. So Dr. Watson and her nurse jumped in their car, donned their hazmat suits, and climbed aboard Wind Therapy. I managed to shuffle my way to the aft cockpit and lay down on the back bench so they wouldn’t have to come inside. The Bahamian government is taking this COVID thing very seriously.
I explained to her that I had spent two days reorganizing our boat, moving heavy bins, climbing that stupid ladder, etc. She said it was probably the muscles around my spine freaking out.
“I’m going to give you an injection of Voltarin, and some tablets of the same medicine along with some Flexeril.”
“Wait, a shot?”
“Yes, an injection, and some tablets.”
There it was. That dreaded word – “injection”. Luckily, I was laying down, so if I passed out, I wouldn’t have fallen anywhere. But I was hurting so badly, I just rolled over and let her do it! So unlike me. The nurse shot me, and she was great. I barely felt it. Now we’re best friends.
It took seven days of medication and lots and lots of sleep before we were able to leave the marina. As fate would have it, the nasty winds actually let up about the same day as my back pain. So, we left the marina together.
Stupid ladder.