When I was 17, I was driving my 1982 fire-red Pontiac Firebird down Route 27 in Belgrade Lakes, Maine in late summer, 1983. I had just left my friends off at their respective summer houses on Great Pond after a day trip to the Maine coast and was heading back to my parents’ house. The sun was setting and Asia was playing on the FM radio. As my sunburned arm rested on my window, I thought about how great it was that I was about to become a senior. We would rule the school!
BAM!
As I hit the busy intersection of 3 different major state highways, a fairly large late 1970s Chevy plowed into the driver’s side of my beautiful redneck car. In 1982, no one had to wear seat belts — and I wasn’t. The marine who was driving the Chevy had been blinded by the sun and never saw me in the intersection. The force of the crash knocked me over the stick shift and out the passenger door. The door had come open from the force of the crash.
Fortunately, I was okay. His car had hit mine on the driver’s side of the engine compartment. He hadn’t been driving too fast, but had he hit my door directly, I would have been killed. Remember, there were no air bags or other modern safety features on cars back then. Both cars stopped and I ended up hanging over the passenger seat with my head next to the seat adjustment handle. I climbed back into the now bent and banged sports car to shut off the motor. However, it had already stalled.
I remember climbing out the passenger side and the police had already arrived. Someone asked me who to call and I gave them my parents phone number (no cell phones, either). As I sat stunned on the curb, I remember feeling nauseous but more concerned about the headlight dangling from the front grill – or, whatever was left of it. A stream of anti-freeze and oil poured onto the asphalt. Steam rose from the engine. I presumed that it smelled like an oil spill or plane crash would smell like.
I ended up experiencing severe lower back pain a day later. After months of chiropractic and medical visits, the pain subsided late that fall. I didn’t run cross country as a result, but did play Tully Bascom in “The Mouse That Roared” with the high school drama club. Over the years, the back pain has occasionally shown up but quickly retreated – I have found the pain somewhat manageable and never sticking around for long.
Yesterday, I decided it was time to get my Halloween outfits out of storage. My unit is about 4 blocks away (LONG blocks in South of Market – about 550 feet each) but I decided to carry the two crates awkwardly through my ‘hood. I didn’t realize until about an hour after I had returned home that my lower back was once again fucked. Really fucked. It didn’t help that I worked at my home office another four hours without stretching or doing anything to deflect the looming pain.
I met Rich for a quick dinner last night but decided to take a cab home since I couldn’t stand up straight – let alone walk – down 4th Street back to my loft. I didn’t have Advil in the house and didn’t feel like getting any, so I barely slept on a heating pad that tripped the circuit breaker during the night.
As I stumbled into work today, our CEO says: “Shit – you should see my accupuncturist .”
Never having been a fan of natual medicine, I hesitantly agreed.
“Good – they will see you at 4:45.”
I showed up – still in severe agony. After my “intro” meeting, the doctor had me climb onto a table and administered craniosacral therapy, essentially pressing against my aching muscles up and down my spine and neck.
At 5:30 she pulled me off the table and, to my amazement, I was standing up straight and in much less pain.
Amazing!
An Epsom salt bath later, I am feeling almost normal.
It’s amazing how stubborn we become especially as we grow older. We think we know it all. Then, we brush aside our prejudices and are surprisingly delighted by what we discover when we simply open up. In this case, my willingness to try something I’ve always doubted saved my back – literally.
If only natural medicine had fixed my Firebird. I’d have grown a mullet by now!
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