Now, as “addictive-personality” as that title sounds, allow me to expound upon that simple statement.
Everyone that reads this blog regularly knows that I love medieval times… not necessarily the (very entertaining) restaurant, but the time period. That said, there is definitely one thing that a trip to that particular past (if I were ever to acquire time-travelling equipment or abilities) would not be complete without… synthetic painkillers. They have all the pain-fighting powers of the “real deals”, and hardly any of the addictive side-effects. If I were to travel into the past, I’d definitely make sure I had a hefty supply of those bad boys before I left.
Allow me to set today’s stage for you: after having awoke from a particularly intermittent session of “sleep” (and that being necessitated by a couple of straight nights of on-my-feet security duties), I set off reluctantly to the head (After six years of military service, I’ve ever since referred to the bathroom in that manner. It makes sense, as I’m generally lazy, and “head” is one less syllable.) to drop a long-overdue deuce.
Now, gentlemen and ladies, I don’t know if you’ve ever had a train of Lincoln logs take up residence in your large intestine for so long that when you passed it it felt like its tent stakes were dragging out your lower back musculature with it somehow… but this was the case with this particular bathroom baby today. Before I bid it adieu, I stepped back to admire the sheer mass of it (as most awesome men are wont to do), but upon standing upright, my lower back seized with sharp pain. It was as if dropping that load had somehow freed up enough room in my torso for my kidneys to release a lifetime supply of stones (And I realize that this makes no medical sense whatsoever, so don’t respond with silly comments – I’m using hyperbole, goofballs.) – and they were the “instant hurt-y” kinds.
Needless to say, it immediately made me wonder just how necessary standing upright would be for the rest of my life, and whether I could immediately do without such a thing… forever. Now, granted, I don’t make a habit of standing when I don’t have to (now, if that doesn’t sound lazy…) – considering I do a helluva lot of it at work – but it’s not something I’m prepared to go without doing on a permanent basis. Also, as my off time finds me often relaxing in a reclining work chair in front of the computer, or lying down to watch DVDs (mostly Futurama, if I can help it), it naturally follows that the muscles which keep me upright may, in fact, be atrophied.
As with all things in life, before you can solve any bodily deficiency, you’re going to have to get over a certain measure of pain. This was no exception.
Considering I also occasionally suffer from migraines (which is yet another hindrance to working out, but I digress), I already had a ready supply of nifty painkillers on-hand. If necessity is the mother of invention, I really would’ve hated to have been the German guy that found it necessary to invent Tramadol… although I’d sincerely like to shake his hand. I don’t abuse the drug, although my out-of-shape, older body definitely has more call to use it these days than in my 20s.
And like most tools, though you may not use them all the time, it is really nice to know that they are there when you need them. As my back pain has waned to the point (after 1 and 1/2 Futurama episodes and the writing of this article) where it is only a small fraction of the excruciating ordeal it was merely an hour or so ago, I have to admit that I love painkillers. They are a very useful tool, and help to encourage me to get in better shape so that I won’t have to rely on them nearly as much.
Thank the God of the Universe for modern scientific advancements! *whew*