May 26, 2003

These Were the Best of Times....

The sun is just now coming over the ridge, and every ray that finds its way through the tangle of trunks and branches cuts straight to pasture, garden, the roofs of house and barn. Steam is rising like last night's sleep, like incense made by and returning back to God in heaven. And all is right with the world. Or so it should be.

Instead, Buster and I are dealing with the indignities of age, victims man and beast of failed warranties on our chassis and suspension systems, moving in slow groaning motion, the blind leading the blind. His problem started last fall, and we have no other explanation than multiple-joint arthralgia resulting from tick-borne disease... possibly Rocky Mt. Spotted Fever. This morning, and for most of the last week, he is barely able to get up, in considerable pain, and only walks as far as necessary to lift his leg feebly and come straight back inside to collapse on his dog bed. And poor pup, he's just past four years old, too soon to act like his master who's put in the real mileage to warrant the groans and crepitous joints.

I'd like to think that I feel like I've been kicked by a horse because I had been kicked by a horse; or fallen over the handlebars of my mountain bike on the Rock Castle trail; or had a hard collision with my partner in a round of racquetball doubles at the club; or maybe fallen out of a tree rescuing a stranded raccoon cub. Nope. I cannot give a cause. I can't put a diagnosis on my condition other than 'undefined myalgia'... mid-back muscle pain. Maybe I can blame the pain on planting a dozen tomato plants, or holding an odd lower thoracic configuration while reaching in the fridge for the mayonaisse; or maybe I sneezed wrong. I'm not so bad off that I can't do for myself, which is good, since I must do for myself with Ann away at work all day. Wasn't so sure, in the wee hours, if I was going to be able to attain the vertical this morning or not. So it could be worse.

Still, me and Buster are self-pitiful, cut off in our prime by the fickle finger of entropic fate, not able to take advantage of this perfectly beautiful, never-before-used spring day. And tomorrow. Oh boy. How will I get 90 pounds of dog into and out of the car to the vet to see if we can come to some decisions either to allow a future lifetime of misery for him, or the agonizingly woeful alternative. Sometimes, I don't much care for the choices, and yet you must chose. Doing nothing is also an answer.

And yes, I'll have some cheese with my whine. And maybe I'd like one of these. Good Fairy? Are you listening?

Posted by fred1st at May 26, 2003 08:38 AM | TrackBack

Are you sure you want to use "direct drive percussion" on your back? Sounds like adding insult to injury to me.

And if so, maybe you could just get a neighbor to beat you with a stick? Quicker, no waiting for UPS.

Seriously, sorry you're in misery. Been there a time or two myself. After a while that kind of pain does make you want to thump where it hurts, just to get even.

I hope they can find some treatment that will make Buster comfortable enough that you can continue to enjoy his company. Bless his heart.

Man, Mondays suck, don't they?

Posted by: Jim (aka JC South) at May 26, 2003 10:04 AM

Oh, sympathy, Fred. I have chronic back problems and it's a total pain, but you do get used to it. Rest, then exercise and stretch gently as it improves. J. and I have both tried acupuncture and other treatments, but the very best is Vitamin A: that's ADVIL, or some other form of ibuprofen. It's a miracle drug but you have to take it regularly and in larger quantities than you might think are advisable. My doctor says 3 tablets 3x or 4x daily with meals are fine when you're managing an attack of back pain. Sorry about your faithful friend, too. I hope you can find something that works for him. In the meantime, don't despair: everything changes.

Posted by: beth at May 26, 2003 10:11 AM

"...the indignities of age, victims man and beast of failed warranties on our chassis and suspension systems, moving in slow groaning motion, the blind leading the blind."

This is why I love coming here, Fred. Wonderful stuff.

Posted by: Alexandra at May 26, 2003 10:36 AM

Mea Culpa! I should have added, I'm sorry you and poor Buster are suffering this morning.

Posted by: Alexandra at May 26, 2003 10:38 AM

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