Vicadin anyone?

I recently informed that I've been inexcusably remis in my blogging....more than 25 days without entry...well, let me share the explaination: Me a few weeks ago: shuffling, old lady style, pacing back and forth because sitting is intolerably painful. Bent forward in an awkward position, grimacing. The grimace is for the August 1994 copy of House Beautiful laying on the waiting room table. The awkward position? The result of another 'thrown back' incident. I move furniture every day, have for years. I'm fat, but freakishly strong. What did me in? Leaning over (from the waist, forgot to bend the knees, take note!) to empty the waste paper basket. The. Waste. Paper. Basket. That's right folks. First thing in the morning, a simple wrong twist and I'm toast. Worst of all? Let me tell you... After managing to drive myself to the Urgent Care Center, I had to wait nearly three hours to be seen. It was tough enough to leave work as it was, waiting with nothing to do was torture. I come from midwestern stock, where the highest honor is given to those who drop dead at work ("He was a hard worker" = "I loved him" to a Lutheran). How humiliating to explain that a puny little trashcan did me in...why couldn't I have been lifting a car from off a trapped child? At last, I get in to the exam room and am handed the gown. I can barely stand, can't sit at all, can't lift my arms above my head--the only way to keep white-hot pain at bay is to shuffle back and forth at a 45 degree angle. Getting undressed takes half an hour. Getting the gown on? Well, let's just say I had to be creative...the wrap-dress is back in style, right? So, crunched and crabby, completely freaking out that I might be useless at work or, god help my Midwestern soul, NOT MISSED during my convelesence...there I barely stand, in yesterday's skivvies... ...and in to the exam room walks THE MOST GORGEOUS MAN ON GOD'S GREEN EARTH. Your mother was right about the fresh undies thing. Every day ladies. Every. Day.