I’ve Fallen and I Cant Get Up!
Updated: Jun 1, 2019
Last night, I was laying on my bedroom floor watching television, my hubby snoring softly from our bed a few feet from me. After a few sleepy yawns, I decided it was bed time so I stretched out long, pulled my knees up and froze! My back had locked up.
Now, I have had my back go out before and I could fight through the pain to make things happen, but not this time. If I moved more than 2 inched in either direction, the sharp stabbing pain paralyzed my body. I tried to roll, I tried to do one giant sit up to put me in an upright position, but nothing worked. So there I was, looking just like a bug on its back, arms and legs flailing, hoping to create enough momentum to somehow get me off of my back.
I weaved and rocked for about 20 minutes when I noticed the movement had scooted me close enough to our 4-post bed that I could get ahold of the footboard. I reached up and with all I had, pulled myself closer, then to my knees. I held on for dear life, like a “man-over-board”, holding onto a piece of debris after being thrown from a capsized ship.
I couldn’t put any weight on my right leg and when ever I tried to lift my left one, it tipped my hips causing the right leg to scream.
So there I was, my head peeking over the foot of the bed at my sleeping husband, who I didn’t have the heart to wake.
Good thing for me, he had 3 glasses of tea for supper!! All of my tugging had shaken the bed just enough to stir him from his slumber, his bladder motivating him to a higher level of awakeness. As he headed to the bathroom, he looked down at me, confused as to why I was hanging from the foot of the bed. I humbly said, “I have been trying for 20 minutes to get up from the floor. Please help me.”
He lifted, I screamed, we compromised and finally I was upright. I looked ahead at what seemed like the country mile I had to walk to get from the end of the bed where I was standing, to the side where I would need to make my entrance. I had no clue as to how I was going to get there.
With each step, I yelped, informed Rod how mad I was, shed a tear, then did it all over again about 10 times. I finally reached the spot where my darling husband made a statement that made me want to punch him. “Climb into bed,” he said.
I really wanted to reply, “No problem, but first let me do a few jumping jacks and a gold-medal-worthy samba!” I refrained, knowing he was my only help and he could have very well left me laying on the floor, in a pool of my own drool.
Another 5 minutes passed, as I whined, “I’m scared” and him saying,”Lift your legs”.
Finally I was in bed, next to the man who helped me finally make it to a safe place. As I heard his breath return to its sleepy rhythm, I taped him on the shoulder, “Honey? Would you get me a Tylenol?”