This morning as I went to wait for the U-Bahn in Düsseldorf, I was rather amazed by the fact that, at 8.15am, though the platform was full of passengers waiting for the next train, it was totally quiet. Library quiet.
Truth be told, I was not feeling particularly chatty myself, but part of me almost burst into song, just to see everyone’s reaction. In the three seconds that I thought of this, the song choices came down to, “If you are happy and you know it clap your hands” or “If I Could Turn Back Time,” by Cher. I am not really sure why these songs popped into my head, but fortunately I held my tongue and just stayed silent with the rest of the people.
Most days, there is a flurry of activity, as you can imagine. Inevitably, there is always someone talking a little too loudly, though I know that it not just a phenomenon of travel on the underground. All the same, it was just a bit strange this morning.
As readers know, I tend to be on the quiet side at the best of the times, so I probably should have just enjoyed this morning’s silence and simply look forward to the next time. However, since I seem to be more and more self-conscious as of late, I actually couldn’t help wondering if perhaps everyone had been busy, chatting noisily and going about their business on the U-Bahn platform until 5 seconds before I got there. You know, kind of like when you walk into a crowded room and suddenly everything goes quiet. The obvious thought (right after you think of two quick songs to sing) is, “Mmmm, was it something I did that made everyone suddenly stop talking?”
Thankfully, the paranoia quickly passed, and a few minutes later I walked into the office to start another exciting day of work.
The past few weeks have been rather interesting (in a holyfuckingshit…I hope that never happens to me kind of way) and, though life tends to be pretty wobbly for me right now, I do still find the humor on a regular basis.
One recent day in the gym, I was doing overhead presses when suddenly my shoulder popped, loud enough to startle a guy who was about 2 meters away at another weight bench. I did not feel any pain, but was spooked enough to sort of take things easy for the rest of the workout. I did try to keep the shoulder loose for the next week, but returned to the gym the following weekend, and managed to throw my back out. I felt it go, and immediately knew that I was fucked.
What did I do? I went upstairs and did 20 minutes on the elliptical trainer, thinking that might loosen my back up.
It did not.
My gym is three U-Bahn stops away from home, but after workouts I frequently get off at the stop just before mine to do a few errands, then walk the rest of the way (a 5 minute walk). In fairness, since I realized that I was going to be sort of laid up for the rest of the weekend, I thought I might peek in the DVD store for a few movies to watch. Well, I got to browsing in the store, and could not make up my mind. Eventually, the pain in my back forced me to leave the store, and by this time I was more noticeably bent over and walking more and more slowly.
Next stop, a little place where I buy wine and coffee. Again, two staples that I need in my life, and again, I eased my way into the shop, made my purchases, then headed for home.
30 minutes later (5 minutes if you are upright and walking without any back pain) I finally got to my doorstep and I really thought it might be nice to get run over by a car. Alas, I simply keyed in, went upstairs, and got myself under the shower, hoping to get a bit of heat on the lower back.
After the shower, I felt well enough to decide to see if I could numb the pain with a few beers, so made my way next door to the pub, and spent the next few hours having a handful of pints. Later, I walked gingerly to get some Thai take-out, then went home and watched Brother Bear. (don’t knock it if you haven’t tried it).
Sunday morning was somewhat excruciating. I was unable to turn over in bed. Hell, I was unable to get out of bed, the pain was intense. With a few yelps and a couple of “oooowww’s,” I eventually got myself into an upright position, and then had to remain standing for the next 4 hours. Once, I tried to sit down, but my back locked up immediately, forcing me to immediately stand back up. I contemplated throwing myself of my balcony, but in the end the muscles loosened up just enough for me to climb in the shower, stand under the hot water for 20 minutes, and ultimately I began to feel a smidge better.
Truth be told, Sunday afternoon I did notice that the back was starting to recover. This has happened to me before, and usually the first 36 hours are total hell, but then things improve pretty quickly from there. Within a week, I would expect to be back to normal.
Except right now things do not seem to be so normal in my life. The Friday night before my back incident, I had been informed that instead of flying to Scotland the following Wednesday, I would need to be in Hungary, from Tuesday until the end of the week.
I obviously did not do any work on the Saturday (Brother Bear and take-out…try it!) and on Sunday I decided to try the alcohol trick to see if that would help improve things.
Turns out I was a bit wrong there, also. I did manage to get fairly drunk, which resulted in me being physically ill (geez, is this guy 22 or what?), which, for those that recall the not so great moment when I had a similar sicko experience right before I flew to Spain for Christmas holidays a couple of years back (“mom, was that a walking abortion we just passed, or does he just look like a dead baby pig?”) meant that I went off to work Monday morning bent over, walking slowly, looking like I had puked my guts out the previous evening.
Not a pretty sight, and several people commented as such when I arrived to Düsseldorf that morning, before heading on to Hungary.
Well, flying for two hours in a crowded airplane, then sitting in a van for three hours to get to southern Hungary is not necessarily the way to get your back back in order. However, I did not really have much choice. Thankfully, the hotel bed was extremely firm, and probably sped up my recovery.
By the end of my week with the supplier, my back was feeling quite a bit better. Thank goodness, because the visit with the supplier had not been a particularly positive one. No need to provide the details, but I returned to Germany not feeling particularly zippy.
I tumbled into bed that Friday evening, but just could not get to sleep, though I tried everything I could think of. I tossed and turned, kept getting up for drinks of water, and so on. Maybe I got a little sleep at some point, but certainly no real quality rest.
That said, fairly early Saturday morning I woke up, knowing it was way too early, but had to get out of bed, because my back was starting to stiffen up. So there I was at 7am on Saturday morning, knowing full well that I would NOT be visiting the gym that day, but was too tired and restless to try and do anything else.
For inspiration, I found myself blazing through the first season of 21 Jump Street, which at least gave me a few hours of something to do. Realizing that perhaps I should try to do something productive. I made a quick run to the supermarket, stocked up on a couple of things, then headed off to do a bit of journal writing. Obviously that experience requires a few beers along the way, so I did manage to spend Saturday afternoon scribbling some thoughts. Some random people came by that I knew, so I closed my book and chatted a bit. A bit later, a different group of folks came by, so I talked to them awhile, before they headed off. Just then, another acquaintance walked up, so he and I had a bit of a chat, and so the next few hours went. I must have sat in 5 or 6 different areas of the beer garden before eventually moving inside to pay my bill.
The hours must have slipped by, because the inside of the pub was rather full for a Saturday night, and I commented as such to a guy I saw. He responded that it was normal that the pub had lots of people inside at 10.30pm, then kind of chuckled as he asked me if I knew how wobbly I was.
“Yep, I am very wobbly right now,” I said, realizing that it was best to go home immediately.
I paid up, went home, almost burned the kitchen down as I made some toast, watched another couple of episodes of 21 Jump Street, then tumbled into bed, somewhat relieved that I felt tired enough to sleep.
Though I managed to sleep for a few hours, it was far from restful, and I woke again early Sunday morning, unable to sleep any longer.
Sunday was not too different from Saturday, except without much pub time. As a bit of an anti-bonus, I experienced anxiety that normally comes on Sunday evening as I think about the coming work week for the whole day. That, combined with the fact that I washed a load of clothes without putting any detergent in with the load (which I realized after I had hung the wet clothes on the drying rack) made it a day worth forgetting.
Monday morning started brightly, as I was on the U-Bahn platform at 7.30, on time, and ready for work. Five seconds later, I was overcome with a sudden attack of gastroenteritis, and elected quickly to work from home that day, in the comfort and privacy of my flat. I cancelled some dinner plans I had made with a former colleague in Düsseldorf, believing it best to hold off until a time when my stomach would better cooperate, and managed to have a semi-productive work day.
I went to bed early that night, which just meant that I had even more hours to toss and turn. On the positive side, I got up even earlier, and took an earlier train to Düsseldorf, which enabled me to get a couple more things done in the office.
And I will spare the typing time - the rest of the week has been pretty much the same. Not a lot of sleep, not a lot of eating (however I did manage to lose about 4 kilo that I wanted to), and a few 21 Jump Street episodes just for filler.
I started writing this piece one day ago, noting an incident involving public transportation. To bring an end to this week’s update, I will note another incident from public transportation, one from my commute home this evening. As we boarded the train this evening, the conductor announced that the electronic reservation system had failed, so none of the seats in the cars of the train were marked as reserved. This does happen from time to time, and it is quite entertaining, because everyone has to fumble about with their tickets and prove that they are sitting where they are supposed to. People do not handle this very quietly, so as I finish up, I smile, thinking of what would happen if the people I am riding home with now got to hang out with the people who were waiting quietly for the U-Bahn yesterday.
Now that would be something, huh?
See you out there
bryan
No comments:
Post a Comment