Perhaps I should do more historic posts. My blog is usually a shining example of valueless fluff. It often encompasses the mundane and very often embraces the nonsensical: beer rants, photos of my forest-engulfed property or my rambunctious cats.
For variety I very often enjoy writing about my past - because it was so unique, colorful, and interesting ( a few miserable spoilsports vehemently disagree).
I tend to shy away from writing about deeply personal problems or health issues. These subjects inevitably evoke yawns of indifference and/or groans of displeasure. Nobody gives a royal crap about your health.
Today I'm going to step out of character (hence the title) and do some bitching and complaining. This would be a good time for the super-sensitive to leave the room.
Wow! The room is almost empty! My power of persuasion is impressive.
In several previous blog posts I've casually mentioned my back pain and also my "laziness" about doing things around the house. I never mentioned, however, the extent or seriousness of my back injuries - - or the fact that it is the sole reason I haven't been doing much physical work.
Here's where it gets boring.
It all started about twenty years ago when I had a terrific fall. While carrying a heavy vacuum cleaner, I slipped and fell down a flight of stairs. I landed directly on my lower spine and sustained compression fractures. It never healed properly and as a result I had numbness and tingling in my legs for years.
Fast forward to 2014 when I moved to Tennessee.
I live on treacherous mountainous terrain and have had several nasty falls since I've been here. The two worst falls happened during the winter of 2015.
In the middle of a very frigid night, one of the water pipes froze and burst. I had to run outside to shut off the main water valve - which is annoyingly far away down the mountain slope.
Just as I got to the shut-off valve I slipped on the ice, flew through the air, and landed directly on my lower spine. The pain was so bad that I couldn't move for ten minutes. Rather than freeze to death on a slab of ice, I finally opted to crawl back up the slope to the house on my hands and knees.
I could hardly walk because of the ice injury, but literally forced myself to do work around here. About three weeks later I was outside in a snowstorm and....you guessed it.... fell on the ice again - directly on my lower spine again. This time, after the initial impact of falling, I slid down a steep embankment and smashed into the side of the house. I had internal bleeding for a week.
I deluded myself into thinking that these back injuries had eventually healed - until about two months ago when I suddenly began getting excruciating pain in my spine, lower back, and legs. It was so bad that there was no way I could possibly walk. It took me half an hour just to roll out of bed, and then I had to literally drag myself in agony across the floor.
I was doing a bad imitation of Blanche in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?
Being a devout masochist, I endured this torture for several weeks - with the hope that I'd either die or eventually improve.
I eventually improved, but not nearly enough to dance the mambo or sing praises to Asclepius. It still takes about an hour before I'm able to navigate in the morning. Walking is difficult. And my posture is noticeably askew. Among other things.
As if this weren't enough, I've been getting vicious attacks of PVC's (premature ventricular contractions of the heart). I've had them for years and mine are usually induced by lack of sleep and stress. For me, magnesium supplements help immensely.
So, what was the purpose of this extremely unpleasant post? Only to proclaim that things aren't perfect up here in the realms of Eden.
And I haven't even revealed half of my problems.
I don't want sympathy or advice. I simply felt an unwholesome need to rant.
And I have to drive into town tomorrow. That should be fun. It's going to be 90 degrees, so I hope to get an early start.
For me, "early" means noon.