A pain in the back. And the arse.
So many, many possible answers and only two weeks to tell them all. Jesus.

One bright, sunny morning, I’m getting ready for university. Shower, check. Brekkie, done? Clean teeth? Oh, right. Upstairs I pop, paste on brush, scrubby scrubby. Tap on, bend slightly to rinse mouth and… Aaah AAAAAHH AAACHOOOOOOOO.

Ow.

Pain soars across my lower back and I try to straighten up. I can’t. The force of the sneeze, coupled with the awkward angle I was leaning at had conspired to tear a muscle in my back and the rest of the muscles had responded by going into lockdown.

I shuffled gingerly out of the bathroom. What to do? I’ll go to the doctors, I thought (not daft, me). But how to get there? Driving’s out, I couldn’t even sit down, let alone operate pedals. Taxi is a no-no. There’s no buses, so I’ll just have to walk.

The walk would normally take me 20 minutes. Two hours later I shuffle into the doctor’s surgery, crying and sweating like a fat man running after the pie van. I’m bent at about 35 degrees and clutching my back like a woman about to go into labour with sextuplets. The receptionist tells me to take a seat. Through gritted teeth I explain that due to the unfortunate nature of my injury, sitting isn’t an option and would it be okay to stand somewhere more private as people are starting to gawp.

Eventually she hustles me into an empty examining room where I prop myself up against a table and spend a pain filled hour looking at a map of the world pinned to the wall. It was not fun. On the plus side, my middle eastern geography is now excellent.

The doctor comes in, takes one look at me and says “Christ, what the hell did you do?” I explained and once he’d stopped sniggering, he wrote me a prescription for two types of elephant tranquilizer painkillers and some muscle relaxants. I shuffled out of the surgery and into a nearby chemists to get me some drugs.

But that’s not the stupid bit. By this time I was in so much pain I wasn’t really thinking straight. I picked up the tablets and a bottle of water and went outside, necked some much needed analgesics and the muscle relaxants and began the shuffle home.

Boy, those things work fast. Within what seemed like seconds (but was obviously much longer) I began to feel distinctly weird. Drunk, almost. You know on some packets of tablets they warn you to “not drive or operate heavy machinery”? These should have had “Don’t drive, operate machinery, walk or attempt to speak in coherent sentences.” Basically I was minced. The pain subsided to a degree and I could straighten to my normal angle. However I was now staggering like an idiot and had realized that the pain and clenching had been masking the fact that I was desperate for a poo. And you don’t want to need a poo when you’ve just taken muscle relaxants…

I entered the house in the same state I’d left, crying and sweating, only this time with the effort of not soiling myself in public. Once I’d unloaded, I got into bed and lay motionless for the next two hours until I felt well enough to drug myself again.

So the moral of the story is, when your doctor tells you “wait till you get home before taking these painkillers,” listen to him. There’s usually a good reason.
(Rakky (forgot her password) The muffin maverick, Thu 20 Dec 2007, 16:12, 5 replies)

I did just that once
shortly before flying to the US, and 8 hours of agony in the back of a 767.

You have my sympathies. It's probably the worst pain I've ever experienced. It took me 20 minutes to get out of bed the first morning!

The muscle relaxants were good though. Knocked me out for a bit of the flight at least.

PS Fat man running after the pie van - pfft!
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Thu 20 Dec 2007, 16:21, closed)

“Don’t drive, operate machinery, walk or attempt to speak in coherent sentences.”
That line made it for me..
( The magic of chutney Shakes it like an Instagram filter!, Thu 20 Dec 2007, 16:25, closed)

My ex once
threw her back out by bending down to pick up a Q-tip off of the floor. I came home from work and found her moaning on the couch, unable to climb the stairs to the bedroom. When she told me what had transpired, I replied, "Thank god it wasn't a cotton ball!"

If she could have gotten up she would have beaten me.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Thu 20 Dec 2007, 16:52, closed)

Stuffed my back
turning over in bed - worst pain I've ever known - and I've had kids!

No way could I have got to the Doc's - hubby got a house call out of them and I was spaced out for two days, and right as rain after about a week.

*clicks* in a "sharing the pain" moment!
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Thu 20 Dec 2007, 17:44, closed)

I know that pain
I woke one morning unable to move after my back decided to throw in the towel during the night. Having crawled the mile to the doctors he prescribed morphine and 6 weeks off work. Wonderful stuff but a pain to come off after a couple of weeks.
(Tyrion, Thu 20 Dec 2007, 19:27, closed)