Sock it to me

Drawing K Donovan 2016

I really should have know better, but it all happened so fast that I just didn’t see it coming. It was a truly heinous act, an ugly scene, and there was absolutely no way that I could deny what I had attempted, then failed, to do. I admit it, I did it, I bent over, while still standing, to place a sock on my foot. Seemingly simple, but not to a certain lower back muscle.

Ouch.

That’s right. I wish I could say that this weight lifting, interval training, yogified, jam-band dancing girl did something very evil to her back by, perhaps, dancing voraciously to Terrapin Suite or by doing her last set of dead lifts, but, no, it was done by the “insidious” act of putting a sock on a foot. The taste of humble pie has been so bitter the past few days. It has NOT been a pretty week for the Ego.

The worst thing about all of this is that I have done this before, in the same way, the same place. The last time it happened I was good for awhile, I made myself be mindful, to remember what to do. Such a simple idea: sit down to place the socks on; yet I cannot seem to make it stick. But learning the simplest things can be the hardest of things.

I believe I would be right as rain if I could keep drinking tequila and stay in the hot shower all day because that has proven to be the best respite, but time to get off that unicorn ride and acknowledge some amazing people who had the best elixir.

Thank you massage therapist Becka King, because, ever since I rolled off your table Wednesday afternoon, I have felt your gifts ease its intention. I believe the muscle is beginning to forgive, but, perhaps not yet, forgive me. Thank you Debbie I. for forgiving me when I had to postpone our lunch date in Syracuse yesterday. Your laughter would have been so yummy to take in, but my body refused to entertain the idea of a long car ride. And, Mark Donovan, who sat with me when it first happened, staying calm and controlled, telling me to relax; who has been cooking dinner, getting groceries, dispensing from the apothecary and driving his, as Lisa Meyers said today, “Miss Daisy” around, I have to say again, for the zillionth time this week, this year, this life, “What would I ever do without you?”

It could have been so much worse, it could have taken more of me. It will heal, I will heal.