A Nonthreatening Email From Your Tortured Back
Other Backs in my position have made the lives of people like you a living hell.
Dear Brain,
I’m reaching out because I wanted to make sure you got my last message, the one in all caps, about those spasms I was having while you were trying to sleep the other night. I get that you’re depressed, but when you’re watching The Office for five hours, hunched over on your bed like some kind of insomniac squirrel… like, you get that that affects other parts of the body, right?
See, sometimes what’s fun for you isn’t so fun for me. Sometimes it kind of threatens my ability to carry out my most basic functions and exist in any state other than agony. And, hey, I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, because you haven’t responded to my last five emails. Maybe spending thousands of dollars on a chiropractor is something you’re into. Maybe that’s a goal you’ve been working towards. Maybe you just really love shelling out money to physical therapists. You like that, tough guy? Is that how you wanna be spending your daughter’s college fund?
You know, I would never do something like this, because you and I are friends who care about each other’s feelings and how the things we do affect each other, but historically, other Backs in my position have made the lives of people like you a living hell. Forget not being able to bend down to pick up your grandkids — you wouldn’t be able to sit down to take a shit. But again, I would never do that. Probably.
Quick reminder: your desk chair has a back. Do you want to torture me? Is that your goal in life? Well, I hope you have fun stooping over your “Best Vines of 2012” like some kind of crooked gargoyle, because just so you know, most Backs in my position would begin the process of completely crippling you, destroying your ability to enjoy any aspect of life, slowly sucking the joy out of every little pleasure until basic existence becomes a battle against debilitating pain. And that would be completely reasonable of them. Completely.
Also, if we’re airing grievances (we are), maybe you could consider exercising. Or honestly just getting up and walking around the room. I will say, though your physical endurance is pathetic, your mental endurance on this issue is incredible — you’ve been without endorphins for an entire year and yet you still refuse to move around. Remember when you promised yourself that you’d go on a walk every day? Because we all remember that, man. It’s funny, because I know you have a spine. And yet.
Well, anyway, that’s all from me. I hope for your sake you finally listen. This is the last email I’m going to send for a while, but you can still count on hearing from me every single second of your godforsaken life in the form of unimaginably chronic pain. Whatever kind costs the most to treat.
Best,
Back
P.S. Bladder wanted me to tell you to get up and pee. For the love of God, the bathroom’s right there. It’s right there.
