I’ve had a disagreeable back for 5 years.
I know, it sucks, right? And my condition exists for one reason only: Hilary. Yep. She is totally, entirely and wholly to blame for my current predicament. I suppose you noticed I used 3 adverbs just then. That’s because simply one isn’t nearly sufficient enough to describe the depth of Hilary’s responsibility for this nearly 64-year-old-once-healthy-person now having the back of a 98-year-old.
How can I blame sweet little Hilary for this, you ask? First of all, she isn’t so sweet. Don’t let that smile fool you. But she IS little. Barely reaching a diminutive 5’ 1” doesn’t hide the fact that the woman is no pushover. Nobody messes with Hilary. But I must admit she does have a generous side she shares with her friends. Unfortunately, she considers me one. I’ll explain…
At age 58, I impulsively accepted an invitation to join Hilary and some friends at her Lake Tahoe house that gorgeous winter. You see, Hilary convinced me to try snowboarding. Why someone on the brink of osteoporosis would embark on a sport where sliding down a mountain atop a waxed board (essentially ensuring a high probability of an array of injuries) is beyond me. Never mind I should have known better. I’m here to blame Hilary, remember?
If you’re a long-time reader, you might recall my post from that particular adventure, Snowboarding: An Old Dog Learns A New Trick. Now don’t get me wrong; I wasn’t horrendous. In fact, I was the only one left at the end of the weekend beginner class. Everyone quit so I enjoyed a private lesson the last day. Surprisingly, I rarely fell and was thrilled to have discovered a new sport.
My next visit to the slopes, Hilary, an experienced snowboarder, wasn’t present when I rented the board (as she most certainly should have been) so she couldn’t warn me it was the wrong one. Granted, the sales person should have known, but the point is, Hilary abandoned me in my time of need, right? Consequently, I fell approximately 237 times within 3 hours, constantly catching my edges. I was dumbfounded. So let’s cut to the chase. Hilary recognized I had the wrong board, too little, too late, if you ask me. But I forgave her because I’m a forgiving person. You should know this about me by now. Anyway, the cruel damage had been done. I headed home with cracked ribs and a bruise that covered my entire left butt cheek. Thus was born my disagreeable back.
Perhaps I should mention we all joined another friend late that day for a drink in the bar at her timeshare on the mountain. And perhaps I should mention they serve surprisingly potent lemon drops.
And perhaps I should mention I had one.
Anyway, on the way to the car I slipped on some ice, landing flat on my back for the 238th time. But that’s neither here nor there. Again, the point is, those falls wouldn’t have happened were it not for Hilary’s generous invitation to Tahoe.
Did I continue to snowboard? You betcha. (Hey, I never said I wasn’t stupid.) Today my physical therapist tells me my left hip has slipped forward, my massage therapist says my tailbone is out of place and my chiropractor confirms I have sciatica. Wait, there’s still more to feel sorry for me about…I can no longer jog and I need to take a break from my beloved tennis.
So should someone ask me why, after 5 years, I currently move like a 98-year-old, I believe I’ve successfully established who’s to blame.