My aching, breaking back
March 7, 2004 | 12:00am
Remember when our fitness instructor would push and test the flexibility of the body by making us touch our toes without bending our knees? No sweat. I could do that without feeling any tightness or resistance in my legs. Fully stretching my limbs seemed to be an effective warm up and cooling down exercise routine too.
To strengthen the bones, I got my daily dose of calcium from a cone of ice cream, a thick slice of cheese or whipped cream ala mode and not from a bottle of coated tablets. I thought I was in top physical form until I reached the "glowing" age of 5 and 3.
While setting the table for lunch, I saw a piece of paper on the floor and bent to pick it up. I heard a crisp, tiny snap which I quickly dismissed. When I tried to stand erect, a knife-like pain spread through my entire back. Instinctively, I crouched. It felt like I was kowtowing to an imperious force shouting inside me "Hah! You are under my control. I order you to bend."
What happened? My back broke or at least it felt that way. The pain was so intense that I rattled off the names of all the saints I knew by heart and repeated them for good measure. Busy "tone" even from up there. The sharp pain continued.
My son, an avid archer, helped me to the car and rushed me to his chiropractor. He took one look at me and with a facial expression that said, "Here’s another one of those cases," he asked me to lie on my stomach. As quick and easy as snapping the fingers, he "snapped" me back, err, my back, in place.
What happened or more devastatingly, what changed? My bones were aging and a false move or stance could bring much pain and misery to the back.
It took only one session to get instant relief but that was enough to make me excessively aware of my posterior. Adjustments on my daily routine had to be made. I had a heart-to-heart talk with my grandson to explain that his once swift and nimble "Nonna" was truly and physically a lola with rickety, groaning and thinning bones. No more superman lifts and piggy backs. I also stopped doing extreme aerobics and substituted that with stretches, brisk walking, gentle massages and yoga. "Remember to bend your knees" became a mantra that continuously played in my ears.
Three "uneventful" years after, it happened again. On a freaky Friday, I reached for my right foot to put on my shoe sock when snap! I heard that dreaded sound again. This time, fear gripped my entire body as I groped for the wall to help me stand erect. Strangely enough, there was no pain. Thinking that I was probably just imagining it, I moved away from the wall and wham! The pain surged through my back with such ferocity that I literally screamed my husband out of the shower. He didn’t know whether to lift me, put me back in bed or dial 911. I asked him to help me stand parallel to the wall and wait for help.
Standing somehow camouflaged the pain. I tried to figure out where I again, slipped. I broke the number one rule. I placed the entire weight of my body on one un-bended knee. When I reached for my right toe – without bending the left leg – my lower back snapped.
It was lousy timing too. We were waiting for our friends, Becky and Patrice Marchessou, to pick us up from our hotel in Limoges for our scheduled five-day tour of the wine chateaux in the Medoc region of Bordeaux, France. I was having no success in trying to explain to the manager on duty about my affliction in almost forgotten and elementary French. What if I gestured like the no-talkies movies?
When our friends finally showed up, I begged, "Take me to the nearest hospital!" So much for dodging clinics and hospitals like a tax collector, heh?
The doctors in the ER played safe. They explained to me (with Becky as my interpreter) that they could not manipulate the back and the only thing they could do was prescribe painkillers. A back brace would help and hot compresses but I should get treatment immediately when I return home. That was a good two weeks away and not wanting to spoil a well-planned itinerary, I decided to just take the painkillers and proceeded with the tour.
Misery and pain did not leave my side. The prescribed painkillers were so potent and strong that they literally squeezed my stomach into a Gordian knot if not pushed it up to my mouth. Suppressing my stomach didn’t help. Patrice had to stop the car – every hour – so I could jump out and tormented-ly, helplessly and unglamorously throw up.
The exquisite 3-star Michelin dinners, the impeccable and excellent fine service, the full bodied or sweet, premier cru selection of wine all burst like a bubble in the wretched condition I was in. On top of that, my stomach developed a pigheaded mind of its own. It refused to eat anything edible save for a boiled, slightly salted potato. On good days, I had two or three bites from an apple.
Arthur, Patrice and Becky didn’t know whether to laugh nervously, frown, sympathize or make light of my condition because in the end, I wasn’t sure what hurt more – was it my back or my stomach?
Returning to Ferney (a French town just at the border of Geneva, Switzerland), Becky and Patrice got in touch with their next door neighbor who was a chiropractor cum acupuncturist. He was in fact the in-house physician for the Le Mans formula car racers.
With one look, he asked me to lie on the floor and again, I was "snapped" back in place. For some quirky reason, a vision of a Lamborghini being serviced at the pit stop came to my mind. This chiropractor could very well be saying, "Piece of cake. She only needed re-alignment."
My chiropractor/rescuer further told me that for back problems of this kind, painkillers would not have helped because they would only upset the stomach before the palliative qualities of the drug would have taken effect. With that, I saw another bubble burst. What do I do now with three week’s supply of painkillers that I still had in my carry-all bag?
I flew back to Manila walking normally with no back brace and no painkillers.
However, I didn’t take any chances. Still jet-lagging, I dialed a number and asked, "Ah, can I see my chiropractor please?"
Further tests showed that I had a slight curve on my vertebrae that gave way to a tiny slit. One false, careless move (like when not bending the knees to pick up or lift an object or carrying a heavy load on my lap with the back unsupported), could put an enormous strain on the back and may result in a pinched nerve.
When that happens, the nightmare recurs.
The bones and the back – don’t ever take them for granted.
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