Soliloquy for a thrown out back

Aha! You still exist my aching back! Oh how I hate you! You are the Joker to my Batman! You are my Hitler to my Europe! You are the Oprah to my Montel! I abhor you! You are cruel and unjust reminding me of this each time I lean forward or bend backwards, wrapping your coil and tightening until I curse.

Why do I deserve such indecent treatment? Have I not treated you well over the years? Have I not given you stretches, occasional yoga, exercise and reduced calories? I lift with my legs, sit up straight yet you still strike me down – randomly without impunity.

Such a grudge you hold! One time! Just one time I improperly moved a ladder in the stockroom and you smote me down with your vengeance! Happily you turned my industry into a derelict 80 year old man and ever since I’ve been paying dearly for that misstep.

48 hours of cold followed by heat is the remedy for you and whatever drugs I can lay my hands on. But this time, you are persistent and I question the standard treatment. What to do with you? Bad enough I am openly soliciting narcotics on Facebook (even though the manner is in a joking fashion). Now, the idea of going to actually see my doctor plays in my mind and I am not a fan of doctor appointments.

Please prepare my suite at the hospital, the chiropractor, and call the massage therapist. If there are no vacancies simply lay me down in a warm moonlit field of poppies and let me rest.

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