Thursday, April 10, 2014

Oh, my back!

Moving story

    I got my first mustard plaster last week. Don’t believe Kay put enough mustard on it. The girl has no concept of a plaster. She treated me more like a baloney sandwich.

    Our supply of gauze is gone and our ace bandage smells like a Sonic #1 combo. That smell is fine for some situations, but not all that pleasing for others. The next person who uses that thing will want some tater tots to go with it.

    I decided on the mustard plaster after realizing that my muscle-relaxer pills were gone.  I got the pills back in ’06 for… I have no idea. Just needed something relaxed. Unfortunately, Kay must’ve chunked ‘em back during the 2010 Pill Chunk. It was a sad day, my friend.

    I needed muscle relaxers because I didn’t want to have to take Amber’s suggestion and do a mustard plaster. The cleanup alone would send me into shock. But, my friend Amber is big into health. She teaches yoga, preaches natural remedies, pushes minerals and vitamins and – most importantly – makes me wanna slap her. I have a low tolerance for healthful hints. It’s not that I don’t appreciate ‘em—Well, yes, it’s that I don’t appreciate ‘em.

    The reason I needed some relief was related to helping someone move an immovable object. There are some things that can’t be moved. You just build around ‘em. The Rock of Gibraltar comes to mind. One thing that is nearly as ominous is one of those newfangled reclining couches.

    If you want a reclining couch for your second story apartment, you need to change your “want.” There were five of us that moving day. Four strong guys and me. The stairwell was narrow, barely enough room for two guys standing shoulder to shoulder.

    There was no plastic wrap. If you layer a weird object into a plastic wrap blob, it can be rolled, shoved, dragged, pushed… You get the picture? An unwrapped reclining couch is going to abuse you. That's why they were made. They can be purchased at any furniture store, but each of them is assembled at a CHAB (Chinese Hurt American Back) factory.

    When you’re coming up a narrow stairway with a wanting-to-recline couch recliner there will be several instances where one person will be sustaining all the weight. It’s one of those Isaac Newton things. In our case there was one instance where one person was sustaining all the weight of the couch plus me. It was crawl over or die time for me.

    The couch did make it upstairs. The walls suffered no gouges nor the floor any scrapes. I was happy as an elephant stomping a poacher. My back didn’t even hurt… until a day or two later.

    Spasms are what I’d call ‘em. I’d try to look over my shoulder and schphenz! That was the sound of the pain. Schuphenz, with a touch of “zap.” If I could stand or sit sans motion I was okay. But moving was a bear.

    Virginia said she had something for that, so she sent Freeman in the backroom for it. I hoped against hope that it was a pill. Anti-back-spasm knocker-outer pill. Thirty minutes later Freeman appeared with a giant black seating cushion thing that you chunk on a recliner. It had a 20 pound plug-in cube with an attached remote control.

    The thing was meant to heat and vibrate your aches away. Virginia said that it normally costs in the hundreds of dollars, but she bought it at a garage sale for five. I asked if it came with a pill.

    Truth is I’ve never had an ache relieved through vibration. I understand the concept. If you shake something enough it will eventually… I take that back. I don’t understand the concept. As I soon discovered, this particular five-dollar device would shake and heat or shake and not heat. But, it would not heat without shaking. Vibration to most parts of my body gives me a headache. Don’t know if you were aware of that.

    Virginia’s back massager has one other feature that I thought interesting. It has a round knot of something right in the middle of your sitting down place. The knot doesn’t vibrate or anything, it just sits there. I don’t know what it’s supposed to do. I just want it to move. Hit the square of my back, or my left thigh. Just stay away from my sit-down part. That’s just sick.

    I really couldn’t tell you, what actually eased my pain. I’m pretty sure it was “time” and the two orders of tater tots. The twinge can still hit me now and again, but I can handle the occasional sphuphenz more than the constant sphuhenzing.

    And, if the spasm picks up again, I’ve still got the vibrating heater thing with the knotted rear end gizmo. And, there’s still plenty of mustard in the fridge. Kay barely touched the jar. It was more of a mustard spread than a plaster. The girl has no concept.


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