Back Pain

Not so long ago, I was hit not once, but TWICE, with the second accident being the result of a 16 year old boy falling asleep behind the wheel and my subsequent whiplash, back injuries, neck, pain, blah, blah, blah…and the back end of my Suburban having to be replaced at the tune of $5000.00 of NOT my money.

Next, Beautiful Daughter does something pretty bad to HER back while performing with colorguard and is out of school for an entire week, x-rays, doctor visits, while missing daily practices, the football game, and even one competition.

Within a matter of mere hours, Big Daddy gets hurt at work and is unable to walk, sit, stand, bend, lay or breathe without being in excruciating pain and having his legs go numb.

My car accident injuries resolve.

Beautiful Daughter’s injuries resolve.

Big Daddy is still in the throes of hoop jumping in order to see a REAL doctor and get some help. (By the way, the MRI was so fascinating that the doctor brought in his colleagues to “check it out” because he had never seen anything like it. Two ruptured discs, L-4 and L-5, fluid leaked out and the discs the size of coasters as opposed to the size of quarters, like they are supposed to be.)

And then today. Ah, today. Precious Son comes BACK home after dropping his sister off at school this morning, complaining of, you guessed it, back pain. Seriously?!?!?!? So, thinking what anyone else of reasonable intelligence would think, I assume someone has cast a spell on us. Voodoo dolls? Ju-Ju? Whack? Whammy? Witchery? I don’t know. So, instead of placing blame on someone who hates me casting a spell, I thought I would just put it all out there and ask Precious Son what he thinks happened…

“Son? Can you recall anything in particular that you may have done to hurt your back? Maybe you slept funny or pulled a muscle while you were at the UK game Saturday?”

“No. I think it was the cartwheels.”

In absolute disbelief…I mutter a challenging “What?”, with strong emphasis on the “t”…

“Yeah, I think it was the cartwheels I did at church last night.”

Again, with much emphasis on that final “t”…“What?!?”

“Yeah. I did like three of them. Probably was that, dontcha think, Mom?”

While I could not get into “what I thought” AND sound like a loving, caring, sympathetic mother as I pictured in my head my six-foot-four inch son weighing in at 215 pounds doing cartwheels in the church parking lot…I opted for “Let me get you some ibuprofen, Honey”.

I guess it is just a matter of time before Titan and Trooper end up with back pain because they thought it would be a good idea to pole vault in the backyard or tightrope walk across the backs of our couches.

Seriously…cartwheels?

God love his heart…