‘Twas the night before Christmas (well, two days before New Years, but still!) that I went to the gym for the first time in months.
I may or may not have gone there of my own free will (read: a cute girl made me go), and it was good exercise; 30 minutes power cycling, 30 minutes core training.
All in all, it felt great.
Until the day after. And the day after that… up until today.
Today is the first time in roughly seven months’ time that I’ve had to take a non-NSAID pain killer.
Yes, the pain killers are mild narcotics (Codeine), but they don’t help enough. My lower back hurts whenever I stand for too long, get out of the sofa, or in general picking things up from the floor.
Damnit!
I had hoped to be done with this saga, as I’m going to Brazil in just north of a month, and I reaaaally don’t want to be stuck in bed the whole time I’m there.
So here I am, on one of the first days of the new decennium, moaning about in pain from an injury sustained 18 months ago.
No access to my doctor until Monday.
Scratch that; no access to call my doctor and book an appointment until Monday, and I’m fairly sure they won’t do anything about the pain.
Fuck my life.
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