When my back gives out I give thanks

Fuck, I yelled when my back went out at work on Friday. It hurt like Fuck. I was stuck in a hunched position. I couldn't move without pain. I had to sit down. I had to stop working. I had to bite down on a ball point pen in order not to yell anything besides, Fuck.

My Friday comes on Saturday. I had another work day of the week after this actual Friday, my Thursday. After some convincing, I went to the doctor to have my back checked out. You shouldn't lift anything for a while, the doctor said. You should have physical therapy, the doc said. I'm writing you a prescription for muscle relaxers, the doctor said. I'm here if you need me, the doctor said.

I took her advice and her medicine. I passed-the-fuck out, that Friday. And when I woke up my back still hurt like shit. I did arrange a ride, so that this day, my actual Friday, but really Saturday, I wouldn't have to ride my bike. It would have been impossible for me to take my bike. My back was taking my independence away, and I sure as hell wasn't going to take the bus.

Just as I was offered drugs from the doctor, I was offered sympathy from friends. I was offered a different role at work. I was offered promotional CDs from a work friend. I was offered a concert ticket by said friend, and offered a ride to the show. But before that, after my work week ended, I was offered a ride home. My bed offered an afternoon of comfort, rest, relaxation. I took everyone, everything up on their offers. Because I was not in the position to refuse.

Now, Monday, my Sunday, I'm still in a bit of pain and it pains me. I'm frustrated that I can't be my normal self. I'm stiff and stuck and shit-out-of luck. I stretch, pop pills, crack my back, put myself in the rack. I've gone too hard for too long. I don't feel young, no longer strong. But it's too early to get old. I'm not wise enough. Only recently have I appreciated the act of not-drinking.

And now this. Just as I get well in my head I hurt my physical being. I'd give thanks for allowing me to live when I should have already died. I give thanks for the chance to right some of my wrongs. I give thanks for the opportunity to reconnect with those I've pushed away. I give thanks for not making some of my mistakes again. But I just want my back to feel better so that I can do more than give thanks, I can give back.