Not realizing the impending danger, I hastily bent down to grab a roll of toilet paper that had fallen on the bathroom floor. What ensued was one of those scenes out of a televised football game where the injured player is scraped off the ground, loaded onto a golf cart of sorts, and driven off the field amid tears and clapping.
In my version, no one was clapping as my husband dragged me back to bed and put a bag of ice on my strained lower back. I thought I was careful not to take my good health for granted, but as I lay there wincing I realized my audacious move is the reason people crowd into pain management clinics. I can just hear the horror stories traded in the waiting room. “What did you do?” asks a patient. “I tried to close the car door,” he answers. “What about you?” he asks. “I tried to get a pot out of the bottom kitchen cabinet.”
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