Philly is where the fictional “Rocky Balboa” character is from, and West Philly is the subject of the old rap song by Will Smith when he was better known as the “Fresh Prince.” The Eagles and hot steak hoagies slathered in mozzarella are other claims to fame. My fame is how miserable of a character I am when my back hurts. I don’t get mean; I just get whiny. My wife rolls her yes and sends me to our chiropractor in Philadelphia when I wake up with a sore back and sound like a toddler who had his stuffed toy stolen. Hey, I can’t help it. I get whiny when I hurt constantly.
I can take a hit. Maybe not like Balboa, but I have been knocked around on the job. The adrenaline of the moment keeps me fully functional. However, when the pain sticks around for a couple of days, I grumble and moan. I don’t yell or snap at people. I just keep making noises every time the pain zaps me mid breath. Sometimes getting up off the couch is an adventure in pain when I throw my back out. You can tell when it is bad. I walk bent over with one hand holding my lower back. I’ll also have a slow and uneven gait, and a very distressed look on my face.
Maybe I should just say, “Fine,” when someone asks me if I am okay or if I am hurting. However, I feel that if they took the time to ask, then I should take the time to tell them all about my aching back. Our chiropractor in Philadelphia gets me fixed up fast when I do something stupid to throw my back out. I can’t figure it out. I can run, get knocked around, work long hours, go without sleep and be fine. Then I can take a nap on the couch and barely be able to move for a week if I don’t see my chiropractor right away.