the foreign embassy
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You've reached the website of Eric Kurzenberger, formerly of Cleveland, Ohio, then New York City, and now, Los Angeles. This site is updated on a somewhat irregular basis: no apologies. It's worth reading. If you need to contact me, I can be reached at info_at_theforeignembassy_dot_com.
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the foreign embassy

Ouch

It might have been the workout I did a couple days before, or the twenty-six-mile bike ride I went on with my dad that afternoon. Really, I don't know what it was. All I know is that I woke up a little before dawn on Sunday morning in the worst pain I could remember. This was wracking pain, which was a new one for me. I couldn't roll over. I couldn't walk, just shuffle. Hell, I could barely stand as the muscles in my back spasmed, over and over. I lay there, trying to sleep, trying to figure out what the hell I had done to myself, trying not to think that something that hurt this bad just had to be permanent. I managed to make it to the shower, figuring maybe the hot water would loosen things up and soothe it a bit. No dice. And since I couldn't turn my upper body, or bend over, or raise my arms above shoulder level, I had to lay back down on my bed, wet, tired, and very, very miserable.

It could have been worse, of course; if you're going to suffer severe back pain, you might as well do it in comfortable surroundings, especially if those comfortable surroundings include your parents' water bed and hot tub, two things which made Sunday a bit more manageable after a lousy start to the day. A visit to my mother's chiropractor the next day, complete with a deep tissue massage and some electronic nerve stimulation, made me mobile again, and by Wednesday I was back in New York and back at work, albeit still a bit sore and still unable to bend fully at the waist. The real pisser, though, is the realization that I can hurt myself like that, that a hard workout or a long bike ride, or even something as stupid as moving a couch or lifting a box of books, can have those kinds of consequences. Learning your own vulnerability and, by extension, mortality, is a bitch, you know?

But all things considered, it all turned out better than I would have expected during my rude awakening early Sunday morning. The nice thing about hurt is that, bad as it feels at the time, the memory of it fades quickly once it's gone.

Fear of the hurt, however, takes a bit longer, and it's going to be a little while before I hit the weights again.

Posted by ekurzen at August 30, 2003 12:39 AM
Comments

Marriage ages you.

Posted by: the old man on September 4, 2003 8:57 PM
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