Humor remains as pain (very) slowly melts away

Making light of nearly every situation I find myself in is pretty much my calling card. So it was no surprise when, back in March, I wrote lightheartedly about screwing up my back while chasing my wife around the woods in an 8-mile trail race. It was still fresh and funny at that point, and I presumed recovery would be as simple and quick as any one of the dozens of other twists, scrapes and minor lacerations I’ve brought upon myself while doing dumb stuff over the years.

No one is laughing louder than fate at this point, as I am still spending a good part of my day wincing in pain with what used to be the simplest of motions. I now smell like wintergreen muscle rub 24/7, sleep on a heating pad each night and can occasionally be found strangely contorting on the floor of my office. Oddly enough, the only time my back doesn’t hurt is when I am riding my bicycle or swimming laps in the pool — a great incentive for training but a bit prohibitive when it comes to getting anything else done.

In a life that oscillates largely between home and work, I very quickly surmised keeping one ice pack in the office freezer at work and another in our own kitchen at home was the only way to go — that way I could have relief at the ready at all times.

I tried to bring myself to drop another $20 on an actual fancy, flexible, “doctor-approved” reusable ice pack, and I was actually on my way to the checkout line when I spotted a much more economical alternative. It was a box of icy-pops — the plastic sleeves filled with colored sugar water that kids everywhere clamor for on steamy summer days, ants and yellow jackets love for their juicy leftovers, and dads everywhere revile for their sticky wrappers that seem to grow straight from the earth directly in front of the lawnmower.

Icy-pops would become my low-budget, ever-at-the-ready remedy. I carried the pack home and split the rainbow mat of 24 sleeves in half, sending a dozen to the office freezer and keeping the remainder at home.

For weeks I walked about the office with a pack of frozen treats strapped to my back with an elastic girdle, both of which were discreetly hidden from view by a second shirt worn over top of the whole mess. The world was largely unaware, aside from my shuffling walk and an odd squishing sound when I sat down. Durable as the day is long, I could refreeze the treats day after day in the full confidence they would never fail me. Then, one day, they did.

Midmorning, I noticed a sticky spot on the plastic mat in front of my desk. Guessing I’d stepped on something in the parking lot and dragged it into my workspace, I wiped the mat clean and went about my work. A half-hour later I noticed an odd trail of purple dots in the hallway as I returned from the restroom. That’s when the light bulb went off.

I dashed back to the restroom mirror to find a large, purple blob spreading across the back of my tan shirt and oozing down to the seat of my pants. Call it a classic case of adding insult to injury.

Kristin and John Lorson would love to hear from you. Write Drawing Laughter, P.O. Box 170, Fredericksburg, OH 44627, or email John at jlorson@alonovus.com.