And now the adventure we’ve all been waiting for.
I tweaked my back playing soccer last night, and I’m sorry to say that my current regimen of Advil and Ben Gay is unlikely to work the kind of magic I need. This feels Flexeril-level serious, meaning my back is spasming pretty hard even as I sit here and type. Of course I can’t go on that while watching Jonah, so options are limited.
With Jonah, I’m trying to avoid lifting him too much, and that’s generally working except for putting him into his crib. I’m afraid setting him down gently is impossible, and we can all thank God he doesn’t sleep on a stone slab or he’d have something of a concussion by now. Anyway, my dropping him into bed a bit doesn’t seem to faze him in the least.
I’m reminding myself that on the scale of things, this reinjury isn’t as bad as it could be. (That’s my way of saying I can still walk.) But it is seriously un-fun, and all the things on the individual and collective Davison “to do” list, it comes at a rather bad time. Maybe it will be cleared up in a day or so. Perhaps a lounging in bed will solve things.
Time will tell.