Be Careful What You Wish For

Two and a half weeks ago, I made a commitment to myself to get in shape. At that time, we were T-minus 17 weeks until the wedding, and I wanted to lose some weight by..

a) Stop drinking beer

b) Eating healthier

c) Exercising

And that last one, I took very seriously. As I've mentioned before, Kristen and I started P90X, and let me tell you, that's a workout. You work your arms, legs, hips, back, even your tongue...for every time I yelled at Tony, "How About You Show Us What You're Going To Do Before You Do It Tony", or "My Body Doesn't Twist That Way TONY!!!", or the most popular, "I HATE YOU TONY!!!!!".

On some days, I would combine P90X with my running program. I joined the YMCA, mostly because if you want to run outside after 8am, you can actually hear your skin sizzle in the heat. Since I'm not a fan of a skin fillet, I became a Y person, and I love it.

I remember the days when I was younger and my older brother Kevin, would smooth out the kinks in the floor boards by using my head as his tool. My Grandma would call my mom saying something to the effect of, "Kevin's beating up on Brian again, Oh, he just broke his glasses again, Oh, now Brian's scratching him, again" (when you're three years younger, and slower, and fatter, you use whatever kind of leverage God gave you). My Mom would call us from work, crying, (we couldn't understand what she was saying underneath her sobs and our continued grappling) and the inevitable call from my Dad three minutes later, "You Boys Stop Fighting Right Now Or You're Going Back To The Y" (the Y at that time was a sweatshop of kids not playing, or having any fun activities whatsoever, and I believe at one time, they made us clean the kitchen).

The Y now is much different. I love it; probably because they don't force me to clean the kitchens anymore.

So, why am I telling you all this?

I've temporarily stopped P90-ing as well as running, and it's killing me. After two weeks, I finally felt thinner, and I was losing weight. And then, the irony of ironies came into my life.

The Chiropractor.

I've been shooting tv news for 10 years now, and I carry a lot of equipment and use my right shoulder as a "camera pad", while shooting sports, interviews, etc. Well, you can guess what my shoulders/neck/back looks like. It's not pretty, but it's mine, and I'm proud of them.

However, X-rays and other technological instruments would tell you differently. And that's why we hate those instruments. They tell us things of reality, while I enjoy living in quasi-reality. Tell me just enough to not change my perception, that's all I need out of life.

Last Wednesday, I went into the chiro for a meet and greet. He flipped me over onto my stomach, as if I was his personal pancake, so he could poke around my back. That lasted one minute. He's pushing on my back near my neck, shoulders, all over my back. It was a hit and run. The only thing we didn't have was a chalk outline of my body on that table.

An hour later, no joke, my lower back started hurting me. Mind you, earlier when I mentioned to them I had severe lower back pain two years ago, they admitted that they can't look at that area, because a spinal scan doesn't go down the spine that far, AND they admitted that any pushing on a certain part of the back could exacerbate that area. Guess what happened? Ding...Ding...DING....you exacerbated the area.

Next day, back hurt worse, but I got through. Two days later, back more stiff, more hurt. Three days later, back much better. Great...exacerbation over!

I started running again. It was three days since my last run, and I needed it. Started out real well. Running on a treadmill = Hamster on a wheel. Keep running, never going anywhere, death stare on the time, and distance in front of you. One foot after another after another after another...

I ran three miles, wanted another, but I felt my back hurting a bit more. I do the smart thing, and stop.

Wobble into the locker room...I can't touch my knees. I can't bend over. Try to stretch it out. Exacerbation!

Slowly walk to my car, flop in, that's the easy part. Anyone show you how to flop out of a car. It doesn't happen. With ten half inch moves, I slowly get out of the car by almost rolling my stomach onto the ground, and wobble my way into Kristen's apartment.

Kristen: "How was the gym?"

Me: "OK"

Kristen: "What's wrong?"

Me: "I hurt my back."

Kristen: "I'm so sorry honey, can I get you anything?"

Me: (slowly climbing upstairs) "Yeah, a new back."

I shower slowly, change, go back downstairs, do the smart thing, ice, medicine, drink, more ice, more medicine, and after five hours, time to go to bed. I can't move. Back completely locked up. Kristen wants me to go upstairs. Heck, my goal is to get up off the couch. Upstairs would have been me climbing Everest at that point. All I needed was a sherpa to help me find my way. The couch was my quicksand. I'm rolling off the couch, but haven't figured out when I hit the floor, how am I going to get off the floor? Uh oh, bigger problem. It took me five minutes to get off the couch and reach the stairs ten feet away. You know how I got up? Kristen lifted me up. If Kristen wasn't in my life, I'd still be on the couch.

Kristen: "I think we should call your Mom"

Me: "I don't want to worry her."

Kristen: "I think we should go to the emergency room."

Me: "I can't afford the ER"

Kristen: "Honey, you might not be able to get out of bed tomorrow. I think we need to go to the ER."

Me: (still in slow motion trying to move my feet towards the stairs the way our older, no let's say "Seasoned Generation" moves into the Rec Room for Bingo Night): "You're probably right. Let's go."

Spent three hours in the emergency room. They gave me painkillers (didn't work). Got three more bottles of painkillers from the 24 hour pharmacy. I thought I'd be good to go. Probably get one day off from work, and I'll be back.

Yeah, that didn't happen.

Called out of work on Monday. I can hear my Dad right now, 1500 miles away, "Unless you're in the hospital, you go to work. Now, stop writing your blog, and GET BACK TO WORK!"

I'm taking 10-12 pills of painkillers each day. You know what that does to you, besides take the edge off...puts you to sleep. In a 28 hour span, I slept 22 hours. When I work morning show, I don't get 22 hours of sleep in a week. I was the Bear hibernating in it's cave on Sunday. Poor Kristen. She could have moved the furniture around in the living room, with me laying on the couch, and I wouldn't have stirred. She could have lit fireworks in the house. Nothing. But, if she changed the channel...

Me: "(waking up as fast as humanly possible) "WHAT'S Going On? I was watching that."

Went to the orthopedist. He told me I had some inflammation in the back...you think. Gave me more painkillers. Good thing I don't get addicted to those things, because man, do they knock your socks off. Half my days, I'm a walking zombie. I went four days without driving my car, probably because everyone, including the mailboxes would have become a hood ornament on my Honda.

So, we're at Day Five now of "Couch Hibernation". And let me tell you...I thought it would have been great. Newsflash: It's not. I'd love to go back to work (if I could only bend down and touch my knees), I'd love to see people out in the world (yes, even those who constantly cut me off on I-4), and I'd love to be able to sit upright for more than half my day (so my legs don't have complete atrophy when this is over).

I've run out of tv shows to watch, I've finished a book, I've had the couch file a restraining order against me (we're working on a plea deal so it doesn't go to court, my lawyer tells me it's 50-50).

Anyone have any ideas how I can stay entertained during the day? The painkillers are working slowly (I am getting better though), but my boredom is on a Mach Three right now, gaining steam as the days drag on.

Again, I thought I would enjoy this. Not so much. Thankfully, I'm not seriously injured, but like I said, "Be Careful What You Wish For".

And for the record, I've halted P90 (no Mom, this wasn't caused by P90, I haven't P90'd two days before the Hit and Run), but not running, hurts my insides. I miss my Hamster Wheel.