Last week was partly shitty with scattered fun throughout. My work week started off rather badly and gradually worsened, here's why. On Monday I was scheduled to do deliveries, and for those of you not in the bizz, that means I drove around in a pick-up truck with a trailer delivering (or bringing in) garbage cans (etc) to customers. On one of my stops I was supposed to bring in a 1 yard container that a customer no longer needed. Well the damn thing was completely full of garbage and it weighed more than John & Kate plus 8's entire family combined, including pets. Being the stubborn individual that I am, I attempted to wheel it onto the trailer fully loaded (instead of waiting for my co-worker to empty it first). Bad idea. During my second attempt I felt my lower back muscle tighten into a knot and frown. It was mad at me, but the feeling was mutual. It was all my fault though, I should definitely work out more.
Throughout the rest of the week I had to drive around in a rear loader picking up piles of various materials and sizes from customers. Under normal circumstances I don't mind so much, but my back was throbbing and aching from Monday's incident and I knew I was in for some trouble. Several of the piles were giant mounds of dirt and sod that had to be shoveled and/or pitchforked into the back of the truck. This is where I got into trouble. I was standing on a sidewalk doing the aforementioned motion when I unknowingly turned and stepped abruptly off the curb onto the street. DAMN THE PAIN! Oh it was bad, everything hurt. Luckily it was Friday so all I had to do was suffer through two more piles and I could clock out and get to my chiropractor. I managed to clock out at 1:30 and I went straight there, but as luck would have it he was out of his office until Monday.
Great, what now? I hobbled home, shaved and showered, and went to my 3:30 psychiatrist session in severe pain. She noticed I was in obvious pain the way I entered the room and sat down, and after I told her what happened she advised me to go to a massage therapist directly after our analysis. Hot damn, I love great advice! So I thanked her, hobbled out to my car, and began calling all of the local massage parlors. As luck would have it, they were all booked solid. DAMN THE PAIN! The last girl I talked to was sympathetic to my pain and was very apologetic that she couldn't see me immediately, but she gave me some great advice: go get some Epsom salt, draw a very hot bath, pour in the salt and soak in it, get out, do light stretching, put a Bengay muscle relief patch on and rest. Hot damn, I love great advice! But as luck would have it, the bathtub in my new apartment doesn't have a built in drain stopper, and of course there wasn't a tub plug anywhere to be found. Grrr! So I had to pull off some serious MacGyver shit in order to take my therapeutic bath: I got an unopened can of corn from the cupboard and a sandwich baggy and used them both to plug the drain. And it worked, lol.
Let me tell you something, fellow bloggers, Epsom salt baths and Bengay patches are an absolutely phenomenal way to recover from a muscle injury! Here it is only two days later and I'm feeling better than I would've had I gone to see my chiropractor. And I got out a helluva lot cheaper too! Three visits to him over the span of a week at 20 bucks a pop compared to 10 bucks for the salt and patches and instant recovery. I'm so thankful to that massage girl for her helpful advice. I'm going to make it a point to buy a massage from her in the future and support her business and thank her personally. Hot damn, I say!