It isn’t Getting Old. At least, not to doctors. It is Maturing.
Well, I am maturing. As part of my efforts to avoid the gym, I began playing Dek Hockey with some people at work. A couple weeks back, my lower back began bothering me after a game. A couple long car trips, broken up by playing with an almost 3-year-old and almost 6-year-old in a Bounce House, another game of hockey, and plenty of picking up my daughter and carrying her on my shoulders later, I had to see the doctor.
I’ve always wondered what back spasms were when I saw athletes go on the Disabled List with them. Now I know. And now that the doctor told me that’s what I have, I can actually now feel the muscles spasming.
The best part was when the doctor told me she was amazed at how extensive the spasms were on my back. She actually told me that she wished there was a med student there that she could show my back to.
At one point, it hurt when I was just standing in one place for too long. Running around? Ouch.
Now, I have to take Ibuprofen (“One tablet isn’t enough. Take two or three. Preferably three.”), do some stretching exercises (“It is like yoga!”), and use a hot pack. Or a cold pack. (“For some people, a hot pack works. For others, cold.”).
As a reward, though, I get to take muscle relaxants at night (“Does your daughter wake up at night? Because these’ll knock you out.”).
Of course, I probably shouldn’t be picking up my daughter. Or carrying her on my shoulders anymore.
But I probably will.
Darn that library book.