There we all stood, saying our “Merry Christmas”es around the office. Hugs were exchanged. It’s a huggy kind of place, I suppose, especially around the yuletide. This being my first yuletide at this place, I assume this is how it always is. Having given and received embrace, I went to sit back down. That’s when the trouble started.
A blinding flash of pain shot from my lower back in opposition to being bent. And now it did not like standing either. What to do? Lower myself slowly to the chair and breathe deeply. “What? Oh yes, I suppose I should call my Sweet Lady.” Dialing her number, I got no answer, but my cell started to ring and the caller id showed my work as the caller. “Dammit,” I though to myself, “this brain fog must be worse than I thought.”
Quickly thereafter, I realized that the fog was surely progressing into total blackout. From prior experience, I knew that time for getting onto the floor was limited, but the pain in my back was inhibiting motion. I was mostly down when consciousness left completely. The last thing I heard was the dramatically loud sound of my head hitting the metal door of a lateral filing cabinet.
And while it did not result in any significant damage, that sound brought the former huggers running. They were alarmed at my state, but I was resting peacefully. Coming to amid the calls for Emergency Medical Personnel, I demurred. Colleagues, however, persisted. Two firefighters were followed by two paramedics, and the four of them established that I could barely sit, much less stand without taking a spontaneous nap. Off to the ER we shall go!
And of course, the route to the ER went directly past the mall on one of the busiest retail evenings of the year. Turning on the emergency lights would have done no good, given that the cars had no where to make a space. Besides, this was not a heart attack. We hoped. Eventually we arrived at the hospital and made a subtle entrance. No crashing through doors or shouting of orders.
There was shouting of a different kind, however, as there was no room in the regular ER inn, and I was placed in the loony bin. Arguably, a good call for much of my neuroses, but the problem at hand was a more somatic one. Time and saline solution went by until a Physician’s Assistant arrived to do a fairly thorough exam. Given that my issue could have been either muscular, skeletal, or renal in nature, the PA was about to collect additional insight through a rectal exam.
Saved by the Doctor! Sort of. If doctors in general have big egos, emergency room doctors have the biggest. It took some conversation and much repetition of information before the doc ordered an x-ray, a urinalysis, and a dose of morphine. Now, as much fun as “Trainspotting” makes narcotics look, the reality of the situation was much less fun for me. The does did, however, allow me to pee and be x-rayed without passing out. A pretty good thing.
Not so good was the fact that the x-rays and urinalysis showed nothing. That means either something relatively simple, like a muscle spasm, or relatively horrid, like a tumor, was causing this. Off to MRI! Which showed, thankfully, nothing. Muscle spasm it is. The cure, lie around for a few days and it should get better.
That sounds pretty good, right? No where to go, nothing to do. The biggest challenge is peeing. Actually, not so much. The biggest challenge is boredom. Regular TV is, of course, no help here. Netflix and Hulu may lose their usefulness soon as well. Perhaps I will take up knitting or something. Or perhaps start a blog?