Tomorrow will be my birthday. Don’t have anything planned. First of all the two other people that live here work for a living and so things tend to shut down pretty early around here on the weeknights. Secondly, it’s not like I’m 7 or something. It’s just not that big of a deal. Granted, unlike, say, Christmas, having a birthday is at least a moderately pleasant experience. But when you are entering the same zip code as the seventies, you put such calendar events in perspective.
What’s different now that I’ve circumnavigated the sun one more time? Not much really. Against all odds I am still married. “Against all odds” really is a figure of speech in my case since they me off the boards in Vegas years ago.
Joe and I seem to be the only people in the county that have not caught covid yet. I figure that given my historic susceptibility to any bug in current circulation amongst the populace I would have caught it 5 times by now. But so far so good.
I guess my major difference between now and last year is I am down in the back. Nothing major. But I can’t seem to shake it which is unlike me. I threw it out about a month ago. While. Taking. A. Walk. I finished the apparently perilous activity in front of my house. I stretched. Suddenly-zing!- my lower back, glutes and hip flexors locked up.
I related this story to my PCP the next day. He frowned and wrote stuff in his chart. The nurse came in and gave me two shots in the ass. I was then taken to the x-ray chamber. A few minutes later, the doctor came back in the exam room. “Congratulations,” he said. “Your back’s completely shot. I’m surprised you haven’t been in here with something like this before now.”
I guess at this point in time he figures I do not require even the pretense of a bedside manner. Which I guess I don’t. Give it to me straight. I will take like a man. Albeit one who is stooped forward. He gave me a scrip for pills and PT. He also gave me a booklet of exercises for my back. “Just like brushing your teeth every morning,” he said.
So I guess that’s new this year. I start my day doing glute bridges now. Didn’t do that this time last year. All and all it isn’t so bad. I can still play golf. I just can’t do anything the next day. My pain level on a scale of 1-10 is @ a 2. And it’s not a constant thing. I can live with that. God knows there are folks that are a whole lot worse off than me. That in itself is worth remembering if not celebrating.
Speaking of celebrations, and speaking of being 7 years of age, my great niece Hattie turns 7 today. She is having a party today and unlike mine WILL be a blowout. Of course, what passes for the pleasure of my company is required. This will be the first little kid party I’ve gone to in years. I shall carry ear plugs and take Valium beforehand.
Hattie is brother Bob’s granddaughter. He and I share a birthday. Typically we exchange amber liquid to commemorate the fact that random laughing chance has given the two of us a shared native day. Bob is into scotch now. I know nothing about scotch and so I asked him what he wanted.
I about threw my back out again when I saw the sticker. He is not worth this.
We will meet again next Saturday night here with our buddy Ray, who naturally as I type this, is getting over -guess what?-Covid. Random laughing chance has given the 3 of us a shared native day. The Deacon will prepare a vegan repast for the occasion. Toasts will be offered. Stories will be shared. Wives will be tolerant. And the 3 of us will celebrate the fact that we have circumnavigated the sun one more time.
Maybe I’ll forget about my back. But I won’t forget that Bob ain’t worth the price of that high end scotch.
