If you’ve been reading my column over the last couple of months, you may recall that I pulled a muscle in my back.

This fact may have been more interesting if I had done so during a triathlon, series of hurdles or at least heavy lifting had been involved.

Sadly, my story is as pathetic as the injury. I injured my back setting a cup of coffee down on an end table. Better yet, I was sporting an oversized housecoat that was complimented by bed head as I made my way to the recliner for morning prayers.

“What kind of noob injures their back preparing for morning prayers?” our four sons asked.

“The blessed ones,” I replied and then I asked them to keep their thoughts to themselves and hand me my socks.

It’s been good days and bad since then. There are extended hours where I feel I’ve really rounded a corner. I continue on with life as if I had nary a care. Then all of a sudden, I’m hit with a jolt of pain that has me calling out to our maker for relief.

This is especially embarrassing in our antique shop when I’m working with a customer as if the aforementioned injury was a distant memory. Sometimes I feel as if I hadn’t a care and then all of a sudden I’m doing a double take, grabbing my leg and moaning.

Then the pain goes as quickly as it came. I stand back up, smile as if it was all for naught and say, “That will be $22.98.”

Talk about your psychotic moments.

Yet, I’m nothing if not a positive person, so I’ve been telling me that while I’m not perfect, I’m getting better every day.

Still, I was tiring of the whole process. It’s difficult when one can’t unload the dishwasher, can’t pick things up off of the floor and has to do laundry on a rolling office chair.

Therefore, I went back to the doctor’s office and said the words that I never wanted to say: “Okay, I’ll do the physical therapy.”

The reason that I never wanted to do the physical therapy is that the best therapist that I know of has a reputation of being a tough one. I’ve given him a hard time for the most of my adult life and I knew he has always wanted to get me on that torture table of his to pay me back.

Sadly enough, he’s also a good and lifelong family friend. Therefore, I had no choice.

“Who do you want to go to?” the doctor asked.

“I don’t even want to say his name.”

Doc took out his prescription pad, wrote the order and smiled as he said, “Drop this off by his office on your way home.”

I walked into Bud’s office with dread and my head hung low. “Lori!” Bud exclaimed as I walked in the door. “What are you doing here?”

“You’re the last person on earth that I want to see, Bud,” I said as I presented him with the prescription for torture.

“Well-ell!” Bud said as he chuckled. “This won’t be too bad. Ha ha ha ha!”

I put on comfortable clothing as I prepared for my first session. I took deep breaths and did some stretches and had a long talk with me as I told me that it was for my own good.

I contemplated a prescription pain pill in anticipation of the pain but then decided to just stick with the over the counter med.

Did Bud try to kill me with pain, you might ask. Did he tie me into a pretzel and tell me to hold it for 30 seconds or until I passed out, whichever came first? Did he make me do pull-ups, push-ups and do planks like it was my job?

In a word, that’s going to be a no.

Instead he stretched me, worked me over and had me leaving his office pain-free.

I still have my moments, but I’m really starting to think that a healthy back is looming on my horizon. It may only be a matter of time before I can sit down and stand up pain free. Perhaps, one day, I can even pick up my own socks.

And if I can wait on customers without calling out to our maker, I might even have to give an “atta boy!” to good old Bud.

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