A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Today

After teaching a class at church, I was getting into my car and my back completely gave out…totally seized and spasmed. The pain took my breath away, and the suddenness would have brought me to my knees had I not been holding on to the car door. I was standing in the parking lot bracing myself against the open back door and doorframe of my car almost literally frozen because every movement, even the smallest, screamed with pain like an angry two-year-old through my body.

Had this happened a few minutes earlier, there would have been plenty of people, to call out to for some help, but now… no one…everyone had gone home. I just stood there bracing myself on my car frame looking down at some essential oils – the ones I love for just a time like this. My “Dr. Bombay Oils” as my friend likes to call them – but they were juuuuust out of reach.

Then a car pulled into the handicapped spot about 30 feet from me. An elderly man got out, and I watched over the top of my car as he lumbered in toward the church. I stood awkwardly half leaning half standing there trying to decide if I was being a big baby or if I was really in that much pain – and maybe I should call out for a little help to at least move and sit down. Call to the old, handicapped man? I could not possibly be so incapacitated. So I just watched him (jealously) walk as I tried to imagine being able to move.

He went up and knocked on the door, which normally people don’t do at the church, they just walk on in, but he knocked which brought the pastor to the door. They started chatting as I was still deciding if I could actually be in that much pain and if I should holler out across the courtyard for a hand. So, I adjusted myself and tried to get into the car… NOPE! A million needles gouged my lower back, “Hey?” I eeked out, meekly. He didn’t hear me. I waited. Watched him and the gentleman chat. Readjusted my stance… I can do this, nope again. Owwwwch!

“Heeey!!! ” … Nothing. He and the nice elderly man continued to chat.

By now my arms were getting shaky from supporting my weight bracing between the door and the frame, and I was regretting not having eaten any protein as I could feel my blood sugar plummeting. In fact, I was heading to G-Burger for a big, juicy burger when this all started.

C’mon, I can’t be that debilitated! I didn’t even do anything odd or strenuous! Sheesh. What the heck? I thought.
“You should do more workouts for your core,” my fitness guru sister’s voice in my head piped in.
Doing “more” would mean I had been doing any at all. (Don’t tell her.)

I tried again to ease down into the car … But now the screaming two-year-old had invited her bratty friends, and they were playing twister with my muscles.
“HaaAaaaAayyY!!” – That did the trick, and they both turned and squinted toward me… “I’m stuck. I can’t move. Help!”

Later he told me when he got to the car my face was gray. Gray! I felt red hot, but I guess the color turned ashen gray by the time it reached my face… He helped me sit down, and I pointed out my oil box to him. At first, we were going to walk into the church, but I couldn’t get that far. I massaged in a bit of my favorite relief blend of oils and breathed a bit.

I sat there for several minutes and my pastor made sure I was ok; even went and got me a bag of almonds from his office because by now I was pretty low and quite shaky. The oils kicked in a bit, and he slowly helped me back to the driver’s side of the car. It occurred to me at that moment that I was glad I didn’t have my Miata yet. Oh, someday I’ll have one. Maybe by then I’ll have listened to my sister and my core will be nice ‘n strong so lowering down into my cute little silver (or red) Miata won’t be excruciating. Anyway, my chiropractor is right around the corner so with one last, “Are you sure you’re OK?” from my pastor, and a final lie that I was from me, I headed over to my bone cracker.

When I pulled up, I noticed a teen girl and her beautiful chocolate lab waiting out front of the veterinary office next door. I got myself out of the car wincing and doing Lamaze-style breaths and, balancing my shaky steps with my right hand on the car, I inched pathetically toward the doctor’s office.

Have you ever felt like if you just said to your body, “Knock it off. It can’t hurt this bad.” it would just work? And you’d breathe a nice deep breath and the pain would just relax away? Well, just as I was about to say that to myself, the young girl’s dog barked startling me which sent a jolting spasm right back through my barely ambulatory body and that notion vanished. Nope. No talking myself out of this one.

I made it to the doctor’s door, and it was then, as I reached for the handle, that I remembered the last time I was here and how when I pulled the door open, I thought how heavy it was and I wondered if anyone ever had any trouble opening it seeing as it’s a chiropractor’s office and probably older and more feeble folks than I might have a time with it. Well, my instincts were right. I couldn’t budge that door… It had only been nine months since my last visit, but I was the older and more feeble folk!

I peered through the tinted front window and rapped on it to get the receptionist’s attention. Then tapped again so she’d grasp my situation. I literally could barely stand upright let alone open the door. She came out from behind her desk and helped me in. I eased myself into the first available seat with a pained breath and let her know I needed to see the doc ASAP.
“He’s no available until tree.” she said sweetly in a thick accent. It was two o’clock.

“I’ll wait. I can’t go anywhere anyway.”

She went and got the sign-in paperwork and clipboard, and I tried to relax. After filling in the intake form and circling the body diagram and giving a location and number to my pain level – there was no place to write a kazillion so I added a zero and circled the 10. I realized there was no way I could wait in that chair until three. At this point, I was actually holding back tears. I called out to the receptionist, and seeing my face with a couple of runaway tears sneaking down my gray cheeks, she grasped the seriousness of my pain level.

She went and got the doctor.

Dr. O’Connor is old school as far as chiropractors go. It’s one of the reasons I like him, that, and he’s also a Christian. He actually prayed with me the last time I went in. He extended his arms to help me stand up, and we moved, my arms bracing on his for support, ridiculously slowly down the office hall to room #3, only mid-way, and I’m not sure why because I don’t remember what he asked me, we altered course and went to room #4. Too bad it couldn’t have been room #1 or #2, they were closer to the waiting room.

We made it to room 4, and he eased me onto the exam table. He asked the appropriate, “Do you know what caused this episode?” question, and I embarrassingly admitted that nothing fantastic had precipitated the incident. I shoulda fabricated a dashing tale of rescuing a kitten, but my pathetic truth, “I was getting into my car.” would have to suffice.

He did some motion tests, some twisty tolerance tests, a couple bendy assessments, and tapped on my knees with his rubber hammer. That one always startles me, and I usually kick so fiercely that I should probably come with a warning label.

Feeling still pretty shaky due to my blood sugar issue, I asked the doc if he had any nuts or cheese around. He didn’t, but he thoughtfully offered to get some cheese from the Mexican restaurant next door. He called the receptionist and asked her to go next door to get some cheese. “Chips?” she asked, “No, cheese. Just ask if we can have some cheese, and I’ll pay them back later.”
“Ok.”
We did a couple more tests. Does it hurt when you laugh or cough? I don’t think so.
When you move like this? No.

Bend like that? Yes. Ouchie-wow-wah! Yes!
A couple of minutes later and the receptionist returned with a bag of chips.

“Cheese. She needs protein. Can you go back and ask for cheese?”
“I thought you say cheeps.”

“No, cheeeeese. Chips are carbs. She needs cheese – protein.”

She thoughtfully acknowledged “queso!” and left again for the cheese, and I, laughing quietly, confirmed with the doc, that it indeed didn’t hurt when I laughed.

Dr. O set me up on that massage table with the undulating roller that moves miraculously below the cushion up and down my back. He prayed over me and got me outfitted with a snug back brace. Still moving gingerly but moving, I listened to his instructions, “Wear it all the time, just not when you sleep.”

“How ’bout when I go kickboxing?”
He glanced up dubiously over his clipboard…
“Totally joking.” I said.
Ha.

Pain is a funny thing. Odd how it can bring us to our knees and make us stop whether we needed to and certainly not that we wanted to. But it’s what happens on our way to today.

Relief came enough in that moment, and relief continued to ease its way into my muscles over the next few days.

This kind of pain – the stabbing, take your breath away kind that brings you literally to your knees – reminded me then, as it does today, of the way emotional pain stabs. The process of moving forward to wellness is similar too.

That cry for help as I leaned against my car. The second-guessing – am I really in this much pain? Can’t I just reach for a solution on my own?

The realization it’s too much. Too far out of reach. I need help. So, I cry in my heart sometimes when the pain of loss, the hurts, or just the feeling of being overwhelmed until I accept I need to let someone share this with me.

Sitting in pain, waiting for more help – the sweet receptionist trying her best and not quite getting what I needed – not all who come around will bring the kind of help that really helps. But they care, don’t they? It’s sweet, and I am thankful for the effort, even if my needs were lost in translation.

Not everyone can help in the way we might need it. Some will bring chips when we need cheese. Still kind though and we can find the love and still appreciate it.

Then the doctor – getting the care from someone who really knows and gets it. They ask the right questions. They get to the issue.

Then I move again. I have a brace, I have some relief. I walk gingerly for a while – but I move.

Hovering below the surface is the anticipation of another piercing twinge, a jolt that may take my breath away again. But I now can see that there will be help. I see because I can go back and know it was there and can believe that it will be there again.

Pain isn’t a good teacher, but it can point us to what we need to learn, if we listen. It’s what happens on the way to today.

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I wrote this story in the summer of 2015. It’s ironic, but as I reread this post, edit it a bit, and share it again eight years later, I’m at my desk with a TENS device pulsing relief through the muscles in my lower back. Once again, my back went into spasms a few days ago. That’s what brought me back to this post. It was a funny reminder, a good reminder – how pain continues to stop me in my tracks. How it is still a good teacher and how I still must listen. Oh, and I have my Miata – it’s red, by the way. And my chiropractor, like many Californians, has since moved to Tennessee.