So last weekend I went on an excursion to Jurong and it was precisely because it was far and away I agreed to accompany my sister and nephew on a long journey to the west - an adventure. Any trip outside the flat is fantastic for my nephew. Being cooped up at home with the same adults and same toys and same TV is torturous boredom for the 2 year old. For us, the greater number of adults that join in the trip, the greater the spread of responsibility over the little one. I had to pay my dues. But lo and behold at Outram Park station, I decided to swing my nephew. He loves it, cutting through the air, legs flung helplessly and at the mercy of centrifugal forces and gravity. At swing three, I felt a sharp jab in my lower back. That's it. Instantly I recalled my earlier debilitating experiences with lower back rigidity around the spine. This one was going to be epic. By the time we were in the industrial boondocks, walking was difficult. At my sister's tailor's flat I was bent over my thighs trying to stretch my spine out. To no avail my desperate efforts were. We took a taxi home which I made stop in Ang Mo Kio for me to visit Uncle Tong. Usually a performer of miracles and redeemer of orthopedic sins, his deft hands somehow failed to relieve my of pain. Usually the effects of his bone realignment regime are instantaneous but not this time. Sigh and ow.
The next day, I was hobbling about. Getting up from a seated position was agony. Try putting pants on. Ay caramba. I was popping leftover Anarex from my last doctor's visit for the similar ailment. My sis called the 7-days-a-week clinic to confirm they were open and under much pain and constant nagging, I made my way to Compass Point to said clinic. Surprisingly, many people are sick on the weekend and the one attending doctor seemed determined to try our patience. My number flashed after an hour and a half of consternation. It was worse for my mum who accompanied this stubborn mule, she has little tolerance for waiting. I walked into the doctor's office and did not sit because it would have been too hard to get up. Less than sympathetic, the doc clinically addressed the painkiller options I had. My allergy to aspirin and NSAIDs made it easy for him - Tramadol. He told me the next best thing would be morphine. Bring it on doc! He wasn't allowed to have any. Shame. He gave me a Tramadol injection above my left butt cheek and I got more capsules of the same plus Anarex pills on payment and checkout. Bloody $61 for a Sunday night visit.
Guess what, the combination didn't quite completely relieve me of pain. I was like 'what's going on?'. Has my body become, God forbid, immune to medication? Twinges and twangs of pain accompanied my National Day and the next day of MC. I was high just sometimes.
(Speaking of National Day, what was with our esteemed MPs playing with their phones on live TV, our president once again not singing the anthem, and the umbrellas some contingents were marching with? The colours on TV seemed overly saturated too.)
Going to yoga for the past two years (goodness it's been that long) I was compelled to sort mt body out naturally. I tried bending backwards standing on my knees. Ow ow ow. I kept reminding myself to breathe into it. Then bending forwards (rabbit pose). Ow ow ow. Lastly, spinal twists in both directions. Less ow here.
I went to work feeling bad. Half groggy and half aching, I dragged myself to the office, dreading the prospect of doing any kind of work. I survived day one. Today was day two. Also another bleh day. More interestingly, I decided not to take any painkillers, a test of endurance and a measure if how far i was coming along. Not very, and a colleague thought it was mad of me to forgo medicine and relief. She perhaps was right as I groaned like an old man getting up from my ergonomic office chair. I came home and repeated the yoga stunts and guess what, I got a pop during the last spinal twists. Yay! I was gonna heal quicker now. Now as I lie on bed I don't feel much agony. Hopefully it's status quo come morning.
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