Expired Narcotics

I'm starting to understand just how Dad must feel at times, though his back has about 30 more years on it than mine.

Bound and determined to do something exciting and memorable during Nicole's days off work, we solidified plans to rent some cross-country skis and amble around Elk Island National Park. After checking the park website it was determined that Maizey couldn't come with us on the trails, so I playfully swept her off the bed for a brief moment of rough stuff before putting her in her kennel. After a few seconds of wriggling fun I was blinded by shooting, stabbing pain and crumpled to the floor in a moaning heap. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to straighten up. It hurt to do anything but stay perfectly still.

I couldn't believe, especially considering the physical work I do, that I'd pulled my back lifting a 50lb dog.

Though I'd just ruined our splendid plans for the day, Nicole was at least level-headed enough to get me to a chiropractor ASAP, who worked me over nicely. It hurt to breathe because several of my ribs were out of place, so he got those back in line with a series of sickening pops. He then twisted and turned me for a few more minutes, despite my whimpering and grimacing.

As of right now I feel okay, since I've been laying around most of the day, but it would sure be better is my Tylenol 3's hadn't expired in early 2004...

Currently: Marveling at my new, virtually un-killable, Pre-Historic Evergreen!